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SANTA     CRUZ 


GOLDEN  FLEECE 


OTHER    BOOKS    BY 
DAVID    GEAHAM    PHILLIPS 

r 

The  Great  God  Success,  Her  Serene  Highness 
A  Woman  Ventures 


The    three    descended    the    grand    stairway    rapidly 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

The  American  Adventures  of  a 
Fortune  Hunting  Earl 

By 

David  Graham  Phillips 


ALDl 


Illustrations  by  Harrison  Fisher 

r 

McClure,  Phillips  $  Co. 

New   York 

1903 


COPTRIGHT,   1903,  BY 

McCLURE,  PHILLIPS  &  CO. 
COPTRIGHT,  1903,  BY  CURTIS  PUBLISHING  Co. 

Published,  April,  1903,  R 


3*31 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Facing 
page 


The  three  descended  the  grand  stairway  rapidly 

Frontispiece 

A  strongly-built,  fairish  young  man  of  perhaps  six 

and  thirty 4 

"My  name  is  Longview " 16 

Barney  half  a  dozen  chairs  away  glowering  at  Long- 
view  26 

He  liked  the  very  first  glimpse  of  her      ....     46 
"  As  if  we  were  a  pair  of  new  chimpanzees  in  a  zoo  "     70 

"Just  my  rotten  luck/'  he  muttered 90 

"Then  you're  not  a  Buddhist  or  a  Spiritualist?"   .   130 

"Forgive  me — it  was  all  my  fault — yet  not  mine — 

good-bye — " 164 

Cosimo,  Prince  di  Rontivogli 200 

"  I  can  imagine  many  extenuating  circumstances  "  .  224 

[v] 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Facing 
page 

"  I'll  give  the  guinea  one  more  chance  "  .  230 

Found  Nelly  alone  in  the  front  parlour     .     .     .     .258 
"  You  may  ask,  sir,  but  I'll  not  answer      .     .     .     .284 

As  soon  as  her  father  and  mother  were  out  of  the 

way  .     . .296 

"I  take  to  it  like  a  duck  to  water" 314 


[vi] 


GOLDEN  FLEECE 


TWO  hours  after  Surrey's  letter  came  his  sister 
Gwen  rode  over  to  Beauvais  House  eager  to 
tell  Evelyn  the  news  of  his  luck  in  America.     It 
was  almost  five  o'clock  in  the  beautiful  autumn  after 
noon,  and  she  found  Evelyn  at  tea  on  the  porch  that 
looks  out  upon  the  Italian  garden. 

"  It's  settled,"  she  said.  "  They're  to  be  married 
on  the  5th  of  November — only  two  months !  And 
George  says  she  is  sweet  and  lovely — not  at  all  like  the 
Americans  we  know.  And  her  dot  is  a  million  and  a 
half — he  calls  it  seven  and  a  half,  but  he  means  in  their 
money,  which  sounds  bigger,  but  counts  smaller,  than 
ours.  She'll  get  twice  that  when  her  father  dies — 
and  he's  nearly  seventy  and  not  strong.  And  I'm  so 
glad  and  so  sorry  that  I  don't  know  whether  to  laugh 
or  cry." 

"  What's  her  name?  You  told  me,  but  I  forget." 
Evelyn's  hand  was  trembling  just  a  little  as  she  gave 
Gwendoline  a  cup  of  tea.  She  spoke  slowly,  in  the 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

clear,  monotonous,  but  agreeable,  English  tone.  Her 
voice,  always  calm,  seemed  stagnant. 

"  Dowie — Helen  Dowie.  He  sent  me  a  proof  of  a 
photograph  they  had  taken  together."  Gwendoline 
took  a  letter  from  the  bosom  of  her  shirtwaist,  drew 
from  it  the  proof,  and  handed  it  to  Evelyn.  She  took 
it,  lowered  her  head  so  that  Gwen  could  not  see  her 
face.  She  looked  long  and  intently,  and,  if  Gwen 
had  seen,  she  would  have  wondered  how  eyes  could 
be  so  full  of  tears  without  shedding  a  single  one. 

"  Quite  aristocratic,"  she  said  at  last,  giving  it 
back.  "  How  much  style  those  American  girls 
have!" 

"  But  don't  you  think  her  rather  pert-looking?  >; 
asked  Gwen  discontentedly.  "  She  looks  ill-tempered, 
too.  I'm  sure  we  shan't  get  on.  Mother  and  I  are 
making  ready  to  go  to  Houghton  Abbey  at  once. 
We'd  have  a  jolly  uncomfortable  time  of  it,  I  wager, 
if  she  were  to  catch  us  at  the  Hall." 

Evelyn  was  gazing  into  her  tea  and  stirring  it  ab 
sently. 

"  It  seems  a  shame  to  have  an  American  nobody 
come  in,"  continued  Gwen,  "  and  throw  us  out  neck 
and  crop  from  a  house  where  we've  always  lived.  Now, 


CHAPTER    ONE 

if  it  were  an  English  girl  of  our  own  class, — you, 
Evelyn, — we  shouldn't  mind — at  least,  not  so  much, 
or  in  the  same  way." 

Evelyn  paled,  and  her  lips  contracted  slightly. 

"  But  it's  of  no  use  to  think  of  that.  We  need  her 
money — everything  is  in  tatters  at  the  Hall,  and  poor 
George  is  down  to  the  last  seventy  pounds."  Gwen 
laughed.  "  Do  you  remember  what  a  time  there  was 
getting  the  five  hundred  for  his  expenses  out  of  Aunt 
Betty?  We've  got  to  cable  him  another  five  hundred 
— he  can't  begin  on  her  money  the  very  minute  he's 
married,  can  he  now?  " 

"  Arthur  must  go  over,"  said  Evelyn  suddenly,  with 
conviction.  "  We're  worse  off  than  you  are.  Old 
Bagley  was  down  yesterday.  He  and  Arthur  were 
shut  in  for  two  hours,  and  Arthur's  been  off  his  feed 
— horribly — ever  since." 

Gwen,  two  years  younger  than  Evelyn,  could  not 
conceal  her  feelings  so  well.  She  winced,  and  a  look  of 
terror  came  into  her  big  blue  eyes. 

"  We  can't  hold  on  another  year,"  continued  Eve 
lyn.  "  And  it's  quite  impossible  for  Arthur  to  take 
Miss  Cadbrough.  She's  too  hideous,  and  too  hide 
ously,  hopelessly  middle-class.  She  could  never,  never 

[3] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

learn  not  to  speak  to  ladies  and  gentlemen  as  if  she 
were  a  servant." 

Evelyn  pretended  not  to  notice  Gwen's  unhappi- 
ness.  She  glanced  in  at  the  great  drawing  room,  with 
splendid  furniture,  and  ceiling  wonderfully  carved  by 
a  seventeenth-century  Italian.  Then  her  eyes  wan 
dered  away  to  the  left,  to  the  majestic  wing  showing 
there,  then  on  to  the  brilliant  gardens,  the  fountains 
and  statuary.  Her  expression  became  bitter.  "  And 
we've  been  undisturbed  for  nine  centuries ! "  she  ex 
claimed. 

Gwen,  in  spite  of  her  inward  tumult,  remembered 
that  this  boast  was  rather  "  tall,"  that  the  Beauvais 
family  had,  in  fact,  been  changed  radically  several 
times,  and  only  the  name  had  been  undisturbed.  Her 
mind  paused  with  a  certain  satisfaction  on  these  little 
genealogical  discrepancies,  because,  though  she  was 
the  sister  and  the  daughter  of  a  duke,  she  was  the 
granddaughter  of  a  brewer,  who  had  begun  life  as  an 
apprentice. 

"  George  wishes  Arthur  to  go  over  to  the  wedding," 
she  said  reluctantly,  after  a  silence. 

A  servant  appeared — his  gaudy  livery  was  almost 
shabby,  but  his  manners  were  most  dignified,  and  his 

[4] 


8 

s 


CHAPTER     ONE 

hair  was  impressively — or  ridiculously,  if  you  please 
— plastered  and  streaked  with  powder.  "  His  Lord 
ship  says  he  will  have  tea  in  his  study,  Your  Lady 
ship." 

"  Please  tell  him  that  Lady  Gwendoline  Ridley  is 
here,"  said  Evelyn. 

A  few  minutes  later,  a  strongly  built,  fairish  young 
man  of  perhaps  six  and  thirty  came  lounging  out  upon 
the  porch.  He  had  pleasing,  but  far  from  handsome, 
features — a  chin  that  was  too  long,  and  hung  weakly, 
instead  of  strongly,  forward ;  uncertain  blue  eyes,  with 
a  network  of  the  wrinkles  of  dissipation  at  the  corners. 
A  large,  frameless,  stringless  monocle  was  wedged,  ap 
parently  permanently,  into  the  angle  of  his  right  eye- 
socket.  He  was  dressed  in  shabby  light  grey  flannels, 
and  he  looked  as  seedy  as  his  clothes.  He  shook  hands 
with  Gwen.  "  Thanks.  No  tea.  I'm  taking  whis 
key,"  he  said  to  Evelyn.  And  he  seated  himself 
sprawlingly.  The  servant  brought  his  whiskey  and  a 
note  for  his  sister. 

"  Is  the  man  waiting  for  an  answer?  "  she  asked, 
when  she  had  read  it. 

"  Yes,  your  ladyship."  She  left  her  brother  and 
Gwen  alone. 

[5] 


" 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

George  is  marrying  the  heiress,"  Gwen  began. 
So  he  wrote  me,"  replied  Frothingham  sullenly. 

"  Evelyn  says  you  must  go  and  do  likewise." 

He  scowled.  "  But  I'd  rather  stay  here  and  marry 
you." 

"  Don't  be  silly,"  said  Gwen,  with  a  shrug  of  her 
athletic  young  shoulders.  "  You've  got  nothing.  I've 
got  nothing.  So  —  you  must  do  your  duty." 

"  Duty  go  hang  !  "  said  Frothingham  fretfully. 
;<  Sometimes,  do  you  know,  Gwen,  I  come  jolly  near 
envying  those  beggars  that  live  in  cottages,  and  keep 
shops,  and  all  that." 

"  Now,  you're  slopping,  Arthur.  You  know  you 
don't  envy  them  ;  no  more  do  I." 

"  Did  Eve  tell  you  old  Bagley  was  down?  " 

"  Yes.     Ghastly—  wasn't  it?  " 

Frothingham  sighed.  "  I  shouldn't  be  so  cut  up  if 
I'd  had  the  fun  of  spending  it." 

"  You  did  spend  a  lot  of  it."  She  was  thinking 
what  a  great  figure  the  young  Earl  had  cut  in  her 
girlhood  days  ;  she  had  always  listened  greedily  when 
her  brother,  with  admiring  envy,  or  Evelyn,  with  sis 
terly  pride,  talked  of  his  exploits  on  the  turf,  and  let 
us  say  elsewhere,  to  shorten  a  long  story. 

[6] 


CHAPTER    ONE 

"  Only  a  few  thousands  that  weren't  worth  the  keep 
ing,"  said  Frothingham,  a  faint  gleam  of  satisfaction 
appearing  in  the  eye  that  was  shielded  by  the  monocle 
— he  liked  to  remember  his  "  career,"  and  he  liked  the 
women  to  remind  him  of  it  in  this  flattering  way. 
"  All  I  really  got  was  the  bill  for  the  governor's  larks, 
and  his  governor's,  and  his  governor's  governor's. 
It's  what  I  call  rotten  unfair — jolly  rotten  unfair. 
The  fiddling  for  them — the  bill  for  me." 

"  Buck  up,  Artie,"  said  Gwen,  stroking  him  gently 
with  her  riding  whip.  "  See  how  Georgie  has  faced  it. 
And  perhaps  you  won't  draw  such  a  bad  one,  either. 
She  couldn't  be  worse  than  Cadbrough." 

"  But  I  want  you,  Gwen.  I'm  used  to  you,  you 
know — and  that's  everything  in  a  wife.  I  hate  sur 
prises,  and  these  American  beggars  are  full  of 


Evelyn  came  back.  "  Go  away  somewhere,  both  of 
you,"  she  said.  "  Charley  Sidney's  just  driving  up. 
I  wish  to  talk  with  him  about  the  States." 

Gwen  paled  and  flushed ;  Frothingham  grunted  and 
scowled.  They  rose,  made  a  short  cut  across  the  gar 
den,  and  were  hidden  by  the  left  wing  of  the  house. 
Almost  immediately  the  servant  announced  "  Mr.  Sid- 

[7] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

ney,"  and  stood  deferentially  aside  for  a  tall,  thin 
American,  elaborately  Anglicised  in  look  and  dress, 
and,  as  it  soon  appeared,  in  accent.  He  had  a  narrow, 
vain  face,  browned  and  wrinkled  by  hard  riding  in 
hard  weather  in  those  early  morning  hours  that  should 
be  spent  in  bed  if  one  has  lingered  in  the  billiard-room 
with  the  drinks  and  smokes  until  past  midnight. 

"  Ah,  Lady  Evelyn !  "  He  shook  hands  with  her, 
and  bowed  and  smirked.  "  I'm  positively  perishing 
for  tea." 

"  You  mean  whiskey  ?  " 

"  Ah,  yes — to  be  sure.     I  see  there  is  whiskey." 

Evelyn's  manner,  which  had  been  frank  and  equal 
before  her  friend  and  her  brother,  had  frozen  for  Sid 
ney  into  a  shy  stiffness  not  without  a  faint  suggestion 
of  superior  addressing  inferior.  She  had  known  Sid 
ney  for  the  ten  years  he  had  lived  within  two  miles 
of  Beauvais  House,  but — well,  he  wasn't  "  one  of 
us  "  exactly ;  he  had  a  way  of  bowing  and  of  pro 
nouncing  titles  that  discouraged  equality.  The  con 
versation  dragged  in  dreary,  rural  fashion  through 
gossip  of  people,  dogs,  and  horses,  until  she  said: 

"  Have  you  heard  the  news  of  Surrey  ?  " 

"  No — is  His  Grace  coming  home  ?  ': 

[8] 


CHAPTER     ONE 

"  He's  marrying — a  Miss  Dowie,  of  New  York.  Do 
you  know  her?  ': 

"  I've  heard  of  her.  You  know,  I've  not  been  there 
longer  than  a  week  at  a  time  for  fifteen  years."  Sid 
ney  put  on  his  extreme  imitation-English  air.  "  I 
loathe  the  place.  They  don't  know  how  to  treat  a 
gentleman.  And  the  lower  classes !  "  He  lifted  his 
eyebrows  and  shook  his  head.  He  was  at  his  most  en 
ergetic  when,  in  running  down  his  native  land  to  his 
English  acquaintances,  he  reached  the  American 
"  lower  classes." 

Evelyn  concealed  the  satire  which  longed  to  express 
itself  in  her  face.  She  despised  Sidney  and  all  the 
Anglicised  Americans;  and,  behind  their  backs,  she 
and  her  friends  derided  them — perhaps  to  repay  them 
selves  for  the  humiliation  of  accepting  hospitalities 
and  even  more  concrete  favours  from  "  those  Amer 
ican  bounders."  The  story  among  Sidney's  upper- 
class  English  tolerators  was  that  his  father  had  kept 
a  low  public  house  in  New  York  or  San  Francisco,  or 
"  somewhere  over  there  " — they  were  as  ignorant  of 
the  geography  of  the  United  States  as  they  were  of 
the  geography  of  Patagonia. 

"  So  he's  to  marry  Dowie's  daughter  ?  "  continued 

[9] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

Sidney.  "  He  was  brakeman  on  a  railway  thirty  years 
ago." 

"How  you  Americans  do  jump  about!"  said 
Evelyn,  forgetting  that  Sidney  prided  himself  on  no 
longer  being  an  American.  "  He  must  be  clever." 

"  A  clever  rascal,  probably,"  replied  Sidney  spite 
fully.  "  Over  here  he'd  have  been  put  into  jail  for 
what  they  honour  him  for  over  there." 

"  We've  many  of  the  same  sort,  no  doubt,"  said 
Evelyn,  thinking  it  tactful  to  hold  aloof  when  a  son 
was  abusing  his  mother. 

"  Yes,  but  usually  they're  gentlemen  and  do  things 
in  a  gentlemanly  way." 

"Mr.  Dowie  is  rich?" 

"  Just  now  he  is — they  say."  Sidney  had  the  rich 
man's  weakness  for  denying,  or  at  least  casting 
doubt  upon,  the  riches  of  other  rich  men.  He  knew 
that  his  was  the  finest  and  most  valuable  wealth  in  the 
world,  and  he  would  have  liked  to  believe  that  it  was 
the  only  wealth  in  the  world.  "  I  trust  the  Duke  has 
looked  sharp  to  the  settlements." 

'  Why  ?  "  asked  Evelyn,  preparing  to  make  mental 
notes. 

"  He  may  never  get  anything  but  what's  settled  on 

[10] 


CHAPTER     ONE 

him  and  her  now.  Dowie  is  more  or  less  of  a  specu 
lator  and  may  go  broke.  But  that's  not  the  only  dan 
ger  in  marrying  an  American  heiress.  You  see,  Lady 
Evelyn,  over  there  they  have  the  vulgarest  possible 
notions  of  rank  and  titles.  And  often,  if  there  isn't 
a  cash  settlement  when  they  '  buy  the  title,'  as  they 
describe  it,  they  refuse  to  give  up  anything.  Many  of 
their  rich  men  have  the  craze  for  founding  colleges 
and  asylums  and  libraries.  They  reason  that  they've 
got  the  title  in  the  family,  therefore  it  isn't  necessary 
to  pay  for  it;  and  so  they  leave  all  their  money  to 
build  themselves  a  monument.  Dishonourable,  isn't 
it  ?  But  they  stop  at  nothing." 

"  Then,"  said  Evelyn,  "  an  American  heiress  isn't 
an  heiress  so  long  as  her  father  is  alive  ?  " 

"  Exactly.  It's  misleading  to  call  her  an  heiress. 
She  simply  has  hopes." 

"  I  hope  Surrey  knows  this." 

"  If  he  doesn't  it's  his  own  fault.  I  cautioned  His 
Grace  before  he  sailed." 

"  That  reminds  me,  Mr.  Sidney.  Arthur  may  be 
going  over  to  the  wedding.  Could  you " 

"  I'd  be  delighted,"  interrupted  Sidney.  "  Any 
thing  I  could  do  for  Lord  Frothingham  it  would  be 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

a  pleasure  to  do.     I  can  give  him  some  useful  letters, 
I  think.     Will  he  travel?  " 

"  Possibly — I  don't  know.     He  has    no    plans    as 

yet." 

"  I  shall  give  him — if  he  will  do  me  the  honour  of 
accepting  them — only  a  few  letters.  The  wisest  plan 
is  a  proper  introduction  to  the  very  best  people.  Then 
all  doors  will  be  open  to  him." 

"  The  Americans  are  hospitable  to  everyone,  are 
they  not?  " 

"  Not  to  younger  sons  any  more.  And  not  to  un 
accredited  foreigners.  They've  had  their  fingers  jolly 
well  burned.  I  knew  of  one  case — a  girl — quite  a 
ladylike  person,  though  of  a  new  family  from  the  in 
terior.  She  married  a  French  valet  masquerading  as 
a  duke." 

"  Poor  creature,"  said  Evelyn,  smiling  with  amused 
contempt. 

"  Yes,  and  another  girl  married — or  thought  she 
married — a  German  royal  prince.  And  when  she  got 
to  Germany  she  found  that  she'd  bought  a  place  as 
mere  morganatic  wife,  with  no  standing  at  all." 

"  Fancy !    What  a  facer !  " 

"  And  she  never  got  her  money  back — not  a 

[12] 


CHAPTER     ONE 

penny,"  continued  Sidney.  "  But,  like  you,  I  don't 
sympathise  with  these  upstart  people  who  try  to 
thrust  themselves  out  of  their  proper  station.  The 
old  families  over  there — and  there  are  a  few  gentle 
folk,  Lady  Evelyn,  though  they're  almost  lost  in  the 
crowd  of  noisy  upstarts — never  have  such  humiliating 
experiences  in  their  international  marriages." 

"  Naturally  not,"  said  Evelyn. 

"  But,  as  I  was  about  to  say,  a  foreigner  with  a 
genuine  title,  the  head  of  a  house  of  gentle  people,  is 
received  with  open  arms.  Lord  Frothingham  would 
be  overwhelmed  with  hospitalities.  My  friends  would 
see  to  that." 

After  a  few  minutes,  without  any  impoliteness  on 
Evelyn's  part,  Sidney  began  to  feel  that  it  was  time 
for  him  to  go.  As  he  disappeared  Gwen  and  Arthur 
came  strolling  back. 

"  What  a  noisome  creature  Sidney  is !  "  said  Evelyn. 
"  But  he'll  be  of  use  to  you,  Arthur." 

"  Did  he  talk  about  the  old  families  of  America  and 
the  gentle  birth?  "  asked  Gwen.  Her  eyes  were  curi 
ously  bright,  and  her  manner  and  tone  were  agi 
tated. 

"  All  that  again." 

[13] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

"  He's  an  ass — a  regular  tomtit,"  growled  Froth- 
ingham. 

"  I  should  think  he'd  learn,"  said  Evelyn,  "  that 
we  don't  take  him  and  his  countrymen  up  because 
they're  well  born — we  know  they  aren't." 

"  If  those  that  are  sensible  enough  to  fly  from  that 
beastly  country  are  like  Sidney,"  said  Gwen,  "  what 
a  rowdy  lot  there  must  be  at  home."  She  spoke  so 
nervously  that  Evelyn,  abstracted  though  she  was, 
glanced  at  her  and  noticed  how  pale  and  peaked  she 
was.  When  she  had  ridden  away  Evelyn  looked  at 
her  brother  severely — she  was  only  three  and  twenty, 
but  she  managed  him,  taking  the  place  of  both  their 
parents,  who  were  long  dead. 

"  You've  been  making  love  to  Gwen,"  she  exclaimed 
reproachfully.  "  You  should  be  ashamed  of  your 
self." 

Frothingham  removed  his  monocle,  wiped  it  care 
fully  in  a  brilliant  plaid  silk  handkerchief,  and  slowly 
fitted  it  in  place.  Then  he  sent  a  mocking,  cynical 
gleam  through  it  at  his  sister.  "  You  forget,"  he 
drawled,  "  that  I  caught  you  and  Georgie  kissing 
each  other  and  crying  over  each  other  the  day  he 
went  off  to  the  States." 

[14] 


CHAPTER     ONE 

Evelyn  flushed.  "  How  does  that  excuse  you  ?  " 
she  demanded,  undismayed. 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment,  then  with  tears  in  his 
eyes  and  a  break  in  his  habitual  cynical  drawl,  "  I 
can't  go,  Eve.  I  can't  give  her  up." 

Evelyn's  heart  ached,  but  she  did  not  show  it.  She 
simply  asked  in  her  usual  tone  of  almost  icy  calm, 
"  Where's  the  cash  to  come  from  ?  " 

He  collapsed  helplessly  into  a  chair.  There  was  no 
alternative — he  must  go ;  he  must  marry  money.  He 
owed  it  to  his  family  and  position ;  also,  he  wanted  it 
himself — what  is  a  "  gentleman  "  without  money  ? 
And — why,  if  he  did  not  bestir  himself  he  might  actu 
ally  have  to  go  to  work !  And  "  what  the  devil  could 
I  work  at?  I  might  go  out  to  service — I'd  shine  as  a 
gentleman's  gentleman — or  I  might  do  something  as 
a  billiard  marker " 

With  such  dangers  and  degradations  imminent,  to 
think  of  love  was  sheer  madness.  Frothingham 
sighed  and  stared  miserably  through  his  monocle  at 
the  peacocks  squawking  their  nerve- jarring  predic 
tions  of  rain. 


[15] 


II 

ON  the  second  day  out,  in  the  morning,  Froth- 
ingham  was  at  the  rail,  his  back  to  the  sea, 
his  glassed  gaze  roaming  aimlessly  up  and 
down  the  row  of  passengers  stretched  at  full  length 
in  steamer  chairs.  He  became  conscious  of  the  ma- 
noeuvrings  of  a  little  man  in  a  little  grey  cap  and  little 
grey  suit,  with  little  grey  side-whiskers  that  stood  out 
like  fins  on  either  side  of  his  little  grey  face.  Each 
time  this  little  person  passed  it  was  with  a  nervous 
smile  at  Frothingham,  and  a  nervous  wiping  of  the 
lips  with  the  tip  of  his  tongue.  When  he  saw  that 
Frothingham,  or,  rather,  Frothingham's  monocle,  was 
noting  him,  he  halted  in  front  of  him.  He  was  too 
painfully  self-conscious  to  see  that  the  Englishman's 
look  was  about  as  cordial  as  that  of  a  bald-headed  man 
watching  the  circlings  of  a  bluebottle  fly. 

"  The  Earl  of  Frothingham,  is  it  not?  "  said  he  in 
a  thin,  small  voice,  his  American  overlaid  with  the 
most  un-English  of  English  accents. 

[16] 


name  is  Longview* 


CHAPTER    TWO 

Frothingham  moved  his  head  without  relaxing  from 
his  stolid,  vacant  look. 

"  My  name  is  Longview.  I  had  the  honour  of  meet 
ing  you  at  the  hunt  at  Market  Harboro  two  years  ago 
— my  daughter  and  I." 

Frothingham  stared  vaguely  into  space,  little 
Longview  looking  up  at  him  with  an  expression  of 
ludicrously  alarmed  anxiety.  "  Oh,  yes,"  he  drawled 
finally.  And  he  extended  his  hand  with  condescend 
ing  graciousness.  "  I  remember." 

Longview  expelled  a  big  breath  of  relief.  He  was 
used  to  being  forgotten,  was  not  unused  to  remaining 
forgotten.  "  You  may  recall,"  he  hastened  on,  eager 
to  clinch  himself  in  an  earl's  memory,  "  we  had  your 
cousin,  Lord  Ramsay's  place,  Cedric  Hall,  that 
year." 

Frothingham  remembered  perfectly — the  rich, 
Anglicised  American  who  fed  his  neighbours  well,  was 
generous  in  lending  mounts  and  traps,  and  was,  alto 
gether,  a  useful  and  not  unamusing  nuisance.  Rich, 
but — how  rich? 

"  And  your  daughter  ?  "  said  Frothingham — he  re 
called  her  indistinctly  as  young,  hoydenish,  and  a  dar 
ing  jumper. 

[17] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

"  She  is  with  me,"  said  Longview,  delighted  to  be 
convinced  that  he  was  remembered,  and  remembered 
distinctly — and  by  a  Gordon-Beauvais !  "  It  would 
give  me  great  pleasure  to  present  you." 

As  they  went  down  the  deck  the  little  man  peered 
at  everyone  with  a  nervous  little  smile — "  as  if  he 
were  saying,  '  Don't  kick  me,  please.  I  mean  well,' ' 
thought  Frothingham.  In  fact,  back  of  the  peering 
and  the  smile  was  the  desire  that  all  should  see  that  he 
had  captured  the  Earl.  They  entered  the  library  and 
advanced  toward  a  young  woman  swathed  in  a  huge 
blue  cape,  her  eyes  idly  upon  a  book. 

"  Honoria,  my  dear,"  said  Longview,  as  uneasy  as 
if  he  were  speaking  to  the  young  woman  without  hav 
ing  been  introduced  to  her,  "  you  remember  Lord 
Frothingham  ?  " 

Honoria  slowly  raised  her  eyelids  from  a  pair  of 
melancholy,  indifferent  grey  eyes,  and  slightly  in 
clined  her  head.  The  men  seated  themselves  on  either 
side  of  her ;  Longview  rattled  on  in  his  almost  hyster 
ical  way  for  a  few  minutes,  then  fluttered  away. 
Honoria  and  Frothingham  sat  silent,  she  looking  at 
her  book,  he  looking  at  her. 

"  You  are  going  home  ?  "  he  said  when  he  saw  that 

[18] 


CHAPTER    TWO 

she  would  not  "  lead,"  no  matter  how  long  the  silence 
might  continue. 

"  No,"  she  replied.  "  We  are  English — at  least, 
my  father  is." 

"And  you?" 

She  just  moved  her  shoulders,  and  there  was  the 
faintest  sneer  at  the  corner  of  her  decidedly  pretty 
mouth.  "  I  don't  know — what  does  it  matter  about 
a  woman?  I've  lived  in  England  and  France  since  I 
was  five,  except  a  year  and  a  half  in  America.  Father 
detests  the  country  and  the  people.  He  was  natural 
ised  in  England  last  year.  I  believe  he  decided  that 
his  social  position,  won  through  his  being  an  Amer 
ican,  was  sufficiently  established  to  make  it  safe  for 
him  to  change." 

Frothingham  smiled.  As  he  was  used  to  the  freest 
and  frankest  criticisms  of  parents  and  other  near  rel 
atives  by  fellow-countrymen  of  his  own  class,  it  did 
not  impress  him  as  unfilial  that  a  daughter  should  thus 
deride  a  father.  Honoria  became  silent,  and  appar 
ently  oblivious  of  his  presence. 

"  I've  never  been  to  America,"  he  said,  hoping  to 
resurrect  the  dead  conversation.  "  I'm  looking  for 
ward  to  it  with  much  pleasure.  We  have  many 

[19] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

Americans  in  our  neighbourhood — such  jolly 
people." 

"  I  know  few  Americans."  Honoria  looked  disdain 
ful.  "  And  they  are  like  us,  the  most  of  them — ex 
patriated.  They  say  their  country  is  a  good  place  to 
make  money  in,  but  a  horrible  place  to  live — crude 
and  ill-mannered,  full  of  vulgar  people  that  push  in 
everywhere,  and  the  servants  fancying  they're  ladies 
and  gentlemen." 

"  I  hope  it's  no  worse  to  live  in  than  England," 
said  Frothingham.  "You  know  we're  always  flying 
to  the  Continent  to  escape  the  climate  and  the  dul- 
ness.  And  our  middle  classes  are  very  uppish  nowa 
days,  don't  you  think?  " 

"  I  detest  England."  Honoria  put  the  first  em 
phasis  into  her  voice,  but  it  was  slight. 

"  Beastly  hole,  except  for  a  few  weeks  in  the  spring, 
ain't  it?  If  it  wasn't  for  the  hunting  it  would  be 
deserted." 

He  saw  her  cold,  regular  features  light  up.  "  I 
love  hunting,"  she  said.  "  It's  the  one  thing  that 
can  make  me  forget  myself,  and  everything  except 
just  being  alive  and  well."  Then  her  face  shadowed 
and  chilled,  and  she  looked  at  her  book  so  signifi- 

[20] 


CHAPTER    TWO 

cantly  that  Frothingham  was  forced  to  rise  and 
leave. 

At  luncheon  the  man  in  the  chair  next  him — Bar 
ney,  who  had  told  him  in  the  first  half -hour  of  their 
acquaintance  all  about  his  big  dry-goods  shop  in 
Chicago — said :  "  I  saw  you  talking  to  Longview  on 
deck.  Is  he  a  friend  of  yours?  " 

"  An  acquaintance,"  replied  Frothingham.  He 
rather  liked  Barney  because  he  was  shrewd  and  hu 
mourous,  and  treated  him  in  an  offhand  fashion 
that  was  amusing  in  a  "  tradesman  " — from  Amer 
ica. 

"  He's  a  low-down  snob,"  said  Barney,  encouraged 
by  Frothingham's  disclaimer.  "  One  of  those  fellows 
that  think  their  own  country  ain't  good  enough  for 
them.  I  was  glad  when  he  got  himself  naturalised 
over  in  your  country.  You're  welcome  to  him.  What 
kind  of  people  does  he  herd  with  in  England  ?  ' 

"  We  like  him  very  well,  I  believe.  He  seems  to  be 
an  agreeable  chap." 

"  I  suppose  he  kowtows  and  blows  himself,  and  so 
they  let  him  hang  onto  the  tailboard — he  ain't  heavy 
and  don't  take  up  much  room.  His  grandfather  stole 
with  both  hands,  and  put  it  in  real  estate.  Then  his 

[21] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

father  made  quite  a  bunch  in  the  early  railroad  days. 
And  now  this  fellow's  posing  as  an  aristocrat.  If  he 
wasn't  rich  who'd  notice  him?  ': 

"  Then  he's  rich?  "  inquired  Frothingham. 

"  Yes  and  no,"  replied  Barney,  his  rich  man's  jeal 
ousy  visibly  roused.  "  There  was  a  big  family  of 
them.  He's  got  maybe  a  couple  of  millions  or  three. 
That  ain't  much  in  these  days.  You  heard  about  his 
knockout?  ': 

"  Has  he  lost  part  of  his  money  ?  " 

"  I  thought  everybody  knew  that  story — it  was  in 
all  the  papers.  No,  it  wasn't  money — worse  than 
that,  from  his  point  of  view.  His  daughter — she's 
with  him  on  the  ship — fell  in  love  with  the  second  son 
of  some  marquis  or  other.  But  he  didn't  have  any 
thing,  and  I  believe  you  titled  people  ain't  allowed  to 
work.  Longview  was  red-headed — wouldn't  give  his 
daughter  a  cent  unless  she  married  a  big  title.  And 
then  the  young  man's  older  brother  died." 

"  Was  it  the  Marquis  of  Dullingf  ord  ?  ': 

"  Yes,  that  was  it.  And  right  on  top  of  it  his  elder 
brother's  two  sons  were  drowned,  and  he  came  into  the 
title  and  estates.  And  what  does  he  do  but  up  and 
marry  an  English  girl  that  he'd  been  struck  on  all  the 


CHAPTER    TWO 

time,  but  couldn't  marry  because  he  was  so  poor. 
Longview  nearly  went  crazy  at  missing  the  chance. 
And  his  daughter — it  must  have  made  her  mighty 
sour  to  find  out  that  the  fellow  had  been  only  pretend 
ing  to  be  in  love  with  her,  and  was  really  out  for  her 
cash,  and  didn't  care  a  rap  about  her.  A  low  pup, 
wasn't  he?  " 

Frothingham  began  to  detest  Barney — "  an  im 
pudent,  malicious  beggar,"  he  thought.  He  gave  him 
his  monocle's  coldest  stare. 

"  No,"  went  on  Barney,  unchilled,  "  Longview's  not 
so  rich.  I  could  buy  him  twice  over,  and  not  take  a 
cent  of  it  out  of  my  business.  But  I  want  to  see  any 
scamp,  foreign  or  domestic,  hanging  round  my 
daughter  for  her  money.  She'll  get  nary  a  red  till  I 
shuffle  off.  And  she'll  get  mighty  little  then  if  she 
don't  marry  to  suit  me.  That's  our  way." 

Frothingham  changed  his  mind  about  dropping 
Barney.  He  had  begun  to  modify  the  low  view  of  him 
as  soon  as  he  heard  that  he  had  a  daughter,  and 
"  could  buy  Longview  twice  over,"  and  leave  the  big 
business — "  seventy  stores  under  one  roof  " — intact. 
"  Miss  Barney  may  be  worth  looking  at,"  he  reflected. 
"And  her  papa  might  relent  about  settlements.  I 

[23] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

suspect  he  isn't  above  loving  a  lord — he's  too  good  an 
American  for  that." 

What  Barney  had  told  gave  him  the  key  to  Hon- 
oria.  He  felt  genuine  sympathy  for  her — their  sor 
rows  were  similar.  "  Poor  creature,"  he  thought. 
"  No  wonder  she's  so  down  in  the  mouth."  After 
luncheon  he  met  her  father  on  deck,  and  did  not  re 
pel  his  advances.  "  But,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  it 
don't  do  to  be  too  friendly  with  these  beggars.  It's 
like  shaking  hands  with  your  tailor.  He  don't  think 
you've  pulled  him  up,  but  that  you've  let  yourself 
down." 

To  the  "  beggar  "  he  said : 

"  I  looked  all  round  the  dining  room,  but  I  didn't 
see  you  and  your  daughter." 

Longview  smiled  proudly.  "  We  have  our  meals  in 
our  sitting  room,"  he  replied.  "  We  dislike  being 
stared  at,  and  mixed  in  with  a  crowd  of  eating  people. 
We  like  privacy.  We'd  be  glad  to  have  you  join  us." 

Frothingham's  first  impulse  was  to  accept.  It 
would  cost  him  nothing — probably  he'd  get  his  wine 
and  mineral  water  and  cigars  free.  And  he'd  have  a 
rare  chance  at  Honoria.  But  her  face  came  before  his 
mind.  He  decided  that  he  would  do  well  to  wait  until 


CHAPTER    TWO 

he  could  learn  whether  she  was  really  part  of  the  in 
viting  "  we." 

Although  he  was  not  welcomed,  but  merely  toler 
ated,  he  seated  himself  on  the  extension  of  a  vacant 
chair  beside  her  and  talked — hunting,  which,  as  she 
had  shown  him,  was  her  weakness.  She  was  soon  inter 
ested,  and  she  unbent  toward  him  so  far  that,  when 
her  father  came  and  renewed  his  invitation,  she  joined 
in  it.  Just  as  Frothingham  accepted  he  saw  Barney 
half  a  dozen  chairs  away  glowering  at  Longview. 
"  I'll  offend  Barney,  no  doubt,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"  But  I'll  risk  it.  I  must  play  the  cards  I  have  in  my 
hand." 

Barney  came  into  the  smoke-room  late  in  the  even 
ing  as  he  was  sitting  there,  having  a  final  whiskey 
and  water  before  going  to  bed.  "  Won't  you  have  a 
high  ball  or  something?  "  he  asked,  making  room  for 
Barney's  broad  form. 

"  No,  I  never  touch  liquor.  Don't  allow  it  in  my 
house.  It's  no  good — no  business  man  ought  to  touch 
it." 

"  I  suppose  not,"  replied  Frothingham,  feeling  that 
here  was  new  evidence  of  the  essentially  degrading  na 
ture  of  business. 

[25] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

"  I  missed  you  at  dinner,"  Barney  went  on. 

"  The  Longviews  invited  me  to  feed  with  them," 
replied  Frothingham  carelessly.  "  They  eat  in  their 
sitting  room.  Sorry  to  leave  you,  but  the  service  is 
much  better." 

Barney's  maxillary  muscles  expanded  and  con 
tracted  with  anger.  He  half  snorted,  half  laughed. 
"  You  might  know,"  he  said,  "  that  that  shark-faced 
snob  would  invent  a  new  way  of  making  himself  ridic 
ulous.  So,  the  general  dining  room  ain't  good  enough 
for  him,  eh?  He  is  a  swell,  ain't  he?  I  should  think 
he  and  his — no,  leave  the  young  lady  out  of  it — I 
should  think  he'd  be  ashamed  to  fish  for  you  so 
openly."  Barney's  tone  softened  apologetically, 
greatly  to  Frothingham's  surprise,  as  he  added :  "  I 
don't  blame  you,  Mr.  Frothingham.  I  understand 
how  it  is  with  you  titled  people  in  your  country.  I 
don't  blame  anybody  for  walking  round  on  human 
necks  if  their  owners  '11  allow  it.  But  we  feel  differ 
ently  about  all  those  kind  of  things." 

Frothingham  smiled  conciliatingly.  "  Oh,  I  say, 
now !  I  don't  see  anything  to  make  a  row  over.  The 
beggar's  a  right  to  eat  where  he  pleases,  hasn't  he?  " 

"  Of  course  he  has,  and  to  stick  his  tongue  out  at 

[26] 


Barney   half  a   dozen   chairs   away  glowering   at 

Longview 


CHAPTER    TWO 

all  the  rest  of  us,  as  he  does  it.  You  don't  understand. 
It  ain't  what  he  does.  It's  why  he  does  it.  We  Amer 
icans  can't  stand  those  kind  of  airs." 

"  It  seems  very  mysterious  to  me,"  confessed  Froth- 
ingham.  "  I  admit  I  don't  understand  your  country." 

"  Oh,  you're  all  right,"  reassured  Barney,  slapping 
Frothingham's  leg  cordially.  "  I  never  thought  I'd 
like  one  of  you  titled  fellows.  I  despised  you  all  for  a 
useless  set  of  nobodies  and  nincompoops.  And  when 
ever  my  womenfolks  got  to  talking  about  that  kind  of 
thing  I  always  sat  on  'em,  and  sat  hard — I'm  a 
hard  sitter  when  I  want  to  be.  But  I  like  you, 
young  man.  You're  more  an  American  than  an 
Englishman,  just  as  Longview's  more  English  than 
American — he  ain't  American  at  all.  You  talk  like 
an  American.  You  behave  like  an  American.  And 
when  you've  been  in  America  long  enougK  to  wear 
your  clothes  out,  and  get  some  that  fit  you,  you'll  look 
like  an  American." 

"  Thanks,"  said  Frothingham  drily. 

"  You  don't  like  it  ?  "  Barney  laughed  good-hu- 
mouredly.  "  Well,  I  don't  blame  you.  You're  judg 
ing  America  by  Longview  and  me.  That  ain't  fair. 
I'm  a  rough  one — never  had  a  chance — first  thing  I 

[27] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

remember  is  carrying  the  swill  buckets  out  to  feed  the 
hogs  before  sun-up  when  I  still  wore  slips.  But  I  mean 
right.  And  I've  got  a  son  and  a  daughter  that  are  a 
real  gentleman  and  a  real  lady,  and  don't  you  forget 
it." 

"  Oh,  you're  all  right,"  said  Frothingham,  slap 
ping  Barney  on  the  leg — Frothingham  was  a  senti 
mental  dog  where  his  pocket  and  his  pleasure  were  not 
concerned,  and  he  liked  Barney's  look  as  he  spoke  of 
himself  and  the  hogs,  and  his  children. 

"  You  don't  want  to  go  back  to  that  little  old  island 
of  yours,"  continued  Barnay,  "  without  seeing  Chi 
cago.  There9 s  a  town !  And  I'll  give  you  the  time  of 
your  life.  I  want  you  to  meet  my  family." 

"  I  hope  I  shall,"  said  Frothingham.  He  was  smil 
ing  to  himself — evidently  Barney  wasn't  above  a 
weakness  for  a  lord.  "  It  was  a  good  stroke  any  way 
you  look  at  it,  my  going  with  the  Longviews,"  he  re 
flected.  "  It's  made  Barney  jealous,  and  he  thinks 
more  of  me  than  ever." 

He  divided  his  time  unevenly  between  the  Long- 
views  and  Barney.  He  wished  to  introduce  Barney  to 
them,  but  Longview  hysterically  refused.  "  It's  all 
right  for  you,  Frothingham,"  he  explained.  "  But  we 

[28] 


CHAPTER    TWO 

can't  afford  to  do  it.     How'd  you  like  to  be  introduced 
to  middle-class  English  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  shouldn't  mind.  I'd  just  forget  'em  the 
next  time  we  met.  The  beggars  'd  expect  it  and 
wouldn't  think  of  annoying  me. " 

"  Precisely — precisely,"  said  Longview.  "  But 
our — that  is — the  American  middle-classes  are  differ 
ent.  They  don't  understand  differences  of  social  posi 
tion,  or  pretend  not  to.  If  this  Barney  person  were 
presented  to  us,  he  probably  wouldn't  take  the  cut 
when  we  met  again,  but  would  come  straight  up  to  us. 
You've  no  idea  how  impudent  they  are." 

"  But  why  do  you  call  him  middle-class  ?  Ain't  he 
rich?  "  asked  Frothingham. 

Longview  looked  at  him  tragically.  "  Birth  and 
breeding  count  with  us  just  as — I  mean  count  in 
America  just  as  in  England." 

"  Gad,  they  don't  count  in  England  any  more,  ex 
cept  against  one.  But  we  can't  get  it  out  of  our 
heads  that  you  Americans  go  in  for  equality  and  all 
that  sort  of  thing." 

"  Not  at  all.  Not  at  all,"  Longview  protested. 
"  The  lines  are  the  more  closely  drawn  because  there 
are  no  official  lines." 

[29] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

"  But  what's  the  matter  with  Barney  ?  He  seems 
right  enough.  I've  got  uncles  that  are  worse.  Gad, 
there's  one  of  'em  I  could  get  rich  on  if  I  could  cage 
him  and  show  him  at  a  shilling  a  look." 

"  My  dear  Frothingham,  this  Barney  keeps  a  retail 
shop.  Even  in  New  York  they  draw  the  line  at  retail 
shops." 

"  It's  very  mysterious."  Frothingham  shook  his 
head.  "  I  fear  I  shall  never  learn.  Why  don't  they 
put  it  all  in  a  book,  as  we  do?  Then  we  could  take  it 
at  the  university  instead  of  Greek." 

He  looked  at  Honoria.  She  was  giving  her  plate 
a  scornful  smile.  Her  father  looked  at  her  also,  and 
reddened  as  he  noted  her  expression,  and  shifted  the 
conversation  abruptly  to  the  day's  run.  Frothingham 
was  becoming  interested  in  Honoria,  now  that  he  had 
assured  himself  of  her  eligibility.  She  was  not  beau 
tiful,  not  especially  distinguished-looking.  But  she 
had  as  little  interest  in  him  as  in  the  rest  of  her 
surroundings,  and  that  piqued  him.  Then,  too, 
her  figure  was  graceful  and  strong;  and  when  her 
face  did  light  up  it  showed  strength  of  character,  and 
either  what  she  said  or  the  way  she  said  it  created  a 
vivid  impression  of  personality.  He  soon  felt  that 

[30]  ' 


CHAPTER    TWO 

she  liked  him.  Her  manner  toward  him  was  friendlier 
far  than  her  manner  toward  her  father,  her  lack  of 
respect  for  whom  was  scantily  concealed. 

The  night  before  they  landed  she  and  Frothing- 
ham  sat  on  deck  late,  her  father  dozing  in  a  chair  at 
a  discreet  distance.  Both  were  depressed — the  sense 
that  they  were  once  more  about  to  plunge  into  the 
whirlpool  of  life  made  each  sad.  Honoria  was  re 
membering  the  past;  Frothingham  was  brooding  over 
the  future.  If  he  had  dared  he  would  have  proposed 
to  her.  "  She'd  make  a  satisfactory  wife,"  he  said  to 
himself.  "  She's  just  enough  English  to  understand 
me  and  to  make  my  people  like  her.  She  wouldn't  get 
on  their  nerves.  And  she  doesn't  talk  through  her 
nose  except  when  she's  excited.  She's  a  little  too  clever 
— but  a  steady  goer,  once  the  harness  is  on.  If  I 
could  get  her  it  would  be  good  business,  good  swift 
business." 

"  You're  a  queer  sort,"  he  said  to  her  suddenly. 
•  "  Most  girls  are  full  of  getting  married.  But  I  don't 
believe  you  give  it  a  thought." 

"  I  sha'n't  ever  marry,"  she  replied. 

He  laughed.  "  Oh,  I  say,  that's  nonsense.  Every 
girl  must  marry.  You  may  as  well  make  up  your 

[31] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

mind  to  it,   close  your   eyes,   shut  your  teeth,   and 
dash  in." 

"  You  might  not  think  it,"  she  said  after  a  pause, 
"  but  I  am  like  you  English — I'm  horribly,  incurably 
sentimental.  I  know  it's  foreign  to  my  bringing  up, 
but "  Her  jaw  set,  and  her  eyes  fixed  upon  some 
thing  visible  only  to  her  in  the  blackness  beyond  the 
rail.  "  My  bringing  up  was  all  wrong  and  rotten," 
she  went  on  presently.  "  I  don't  know  just  how  or 
where,  but  I  know  it's  so.  I  began  to  feel  it  dimly 
when  I  visited  my  aunt  in  America  four  years  ago. 
My  mother  died  when  I  was  a  baby,  and  I  was  trained 
by  my  father  and  governesses — governesses  that 

suited  him.     My  father But  I  needn't  tell  you, 

and  you  probably  don't  sympathise  with  me.  His 
one  idea  in  life  is  social  position.  It  seems  to  me  a 
contemptible  ambition  for  a  man.  With  women — 
there's  some  excuse  for  it.  We're  naturally  petty,  f 
And,  so  far  as  I  can  see  it,  as  the  world  is  made  up, 
if  we  haven't  got  that  we  haven't  got  anything.  We 
can't  have  any  other  ambition — it's  the  only  one  open 
to  us.  Well,  I  haven't  got  even  ambition.  I  want — 
that  is,  I  wanted " 

She  paused  again,  resisting  the  mood  that  was  urg- 

[32] 


CHAPTER    TWO 

ing  her  on  to  confidence.     "  By  Jove,"  thought  Froth- 
ingham,  "  it  wouldn't  be  hard  for  a  man  to  like  her." 

"  No  matter  what  it  was  I  wanted,"  she  went  on, 
"  I  didn't  get  it — and  sha'n't,  ever."  She  turned  her 
face  toward  him.  "  You  may  misunderstand  me — 
may  think  I  am  in  love  and  hopelessly  disappointed — 
there's  a  story  of  that  kind  going  round.  But  I'm  not 
in  love.  I  was — but  I'm  not  now." 

"  Do  you  think  one  ever  gets  over  it?  "  he  asked  ab 
sently. 

She  did  not  answer. 

"  I'm  afraid  not — at  least,  not  thoroughly,"  he  an 
swered  himself.  There  were  two  faces  out  there  in 
the  blackness  into  which  they  were  staring,  but  each 
was  seeing  only  one. 

"  One  ought  to  get  over  it — one  must"  she  said 
slowly,  "  when  one  finds  that  the  person  one  cared  for 
is  a  bad  lot.  But " — she  sighed  under  her  breath — 
"  I  might  marry,  yes,  would,  if  I  needed  a  home  or 
money.  But  I  don't.  So  I  shall  be  much  better  con- 
'  tented  alone.  I'll  never  believe  deeply  in  any  human 
being  again." 

"  You  mustn't  take    life    so    seriously,"    he    said 

gently.     "  You'll  change  before " 

[33] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

"So  my  father  thinks."  She  looked  at  Froth- 
ingham  with  a  mischievous,  audacious  smile.  "  He 
thinks  I  shall  change  immediately — and  marry — 
you ! " 

Frothingham  gasped. 

"  How  funny  and  fishlike  you  look,"  she  said, 
laughing  at  him.  "  You  are  in  no  danger.  Do  you 
suppose  I'd  have  said  that  if  I'd  had  you  on  my  list? 
No,  I  like  you,  but — but!  ' 

"  You  may  change  your  mind,"  he  recovered  him 
self  sufficiently  to  say. 

"  No — you're  safe.  I  spoke  out  because  I  wish  to 
be  friends  with  you.  I  don't  especially  admire  your 
purpose  in  going  to  America.  But  at  least  you're 
frank  about  it." 

"  I?  Why,  Miss  Longview — I "  Frothing 
ham  began  to  protest,  pushing  at  his  dislodging  eye 
glass. 

"  Don't  prevaricate.  You  wouldn't  do  it  well.  As 
I  was  about  to  say,  I  wish  to  be  friends  with  you. 
And  it's  impossible  for  a  woman  and  a  man  to  be 
friends  when  either  is  harbouring  matrimonial  de 
signs  against  the  other,  or  fancies  the  other  is  har 
bouring  them." 

[34] 


CHAPTER    TWO 

"  I  certainly  have  to  marry  somebody,"  said  Froth- 
ingham  mournfully. 

"  Yes — I  know.  Father  explained  about  you.  He's 
up  on  every  titled  family  in  England  above  the  baron 
ets.  And  he's  determined  that  I  shall  be  a  countess 
at  the  very  least.  He  says  he  has  the  money  to  buy  it 
— and  possibly  he  has.  But " — she  was  intent  upon 
the  blackness  again — "  I  shall  never  go  back  to 
England.  I  shall  stay  in  America — with  a  visit  to 
Paris  and  the  Riviera  now  and  then." 

"  That  '11  cheer  your  father  when  he  hears  it," 
drawled  Frothingham.  He  coughed  and  stammered, 
and  added  in  an  embarrassed,  apologetic  tone,  "  And 
I  don't  like  to  hear  a  girl  as  young  and  attractive  as 
you  are  talk  in  that  ghastly  way." 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  teasing  smile. 

"  You'll  make  some  woman  a  good  husband,"  she 
said.  "  Selfish  and  flighty,  perhaps,  but  on  the  whole 
good.  I'll  be  glad  to  help  you — with  some  other  girl. 
In  fact,  I've  one  in  mind — an  acquaintance  in  New 
York — we  call  each  the  other  friend,  and  I'm  fond  of 
i  her,  as  that  sort  of  thing  goes  with  women." 

He  began  to  stammer  again,  and  she  saw  that  he 
was  still  hanging  hopefully  over  her  father's  plan. 

[35] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

"  If  I  were  a  marrying  woman  and  ambitious,"  she 
went  on,  "  I'd  think  seriously  of  having  a  cast  at  you. 
But  I'm  neither,  so  I  can  appreciate  your  assets  quite 
impartially." 

"  I've  got  nothing,"  he  said,  "  nothing  but  debts." 

"  Debts  are  an  asset — if  contracted  in  a  way  that 
would  seem  romantic  to  a  girl.  Then,  there's  your 
title.  That's  a  big  asset  either  in  England  or  Amer 
ica.  And  you've  got  a  fairly  good  disposition  and  nice 
manners,  and  you  pretend  indifference  charmingly, 
assisted  by  your  eyeglass.  And  your  character  is  not 
too  bad.  Not  too  good,  either.  I've  heard  one  or 
two  rather  thick  stories  of  you.  If  I  were  your  wife 
I'd  keep  an  eye  on  the  money — you  will  gamble.  But 
your  character  is  well  up  to  the  average  for  our  kind 
of  people." 

"  I've  been  rather  bad,  I'm  afraid,"  he  said,  in  the 
shallowly  penitent  tone  in  which  human  beings  glory 
in  the  sins  they  are  proud  of.  "  I've  been  as  bad  as 
I  knew  how  to  be." 

"  All  of  us  are  that,  I  fancy,"  replied  Honoria, 
rising.  "  I  sha'n't  trouble  you  to  confess  to  me.  Save 
it  for — her.  Good-night."  She  put  out  her  hand 
friendlily.  "  I  think  we  shall  be  friends." 

[36] 


CHAPTER    TWO 

Frothingham  looked  after  her  as  she  went  with  her 
father  down  the  deck  toward  the  main  companion- 
way.  "  She  is  a  queer  lot,"  he  muttered.  "  I  sup 
pose  that's  American.  Well,  if  it's  a  fair  specimen,  I 
certainly  sha'n't  be  bored  in  America.3 


55 


[37] 


Ill 

NEW  YORK,  6  November. 
My  Dear  Eve : 

I'M  just  sending  you  off  the  newspapers  with  the 
accounts  of  George's  wedding.     Don't  show  them 
about,  please,  as  he's  frightfully  cut  up  over  them. 
He  swears  he'll  never  set  foot  in  this  country  again, 
or  let  his    Duchess    come.      You'll   be   tremendously 
amused  as  you  read.    You'll  never  have  seen  anything 
so  frank  and  personal.    And  the  illustrations !    We've 
done  nothing  but  dodge  cameras    when    we    weren't 
dodging  reporters.     I  don't    agree   with    George — I 
think  it's  great  fun. 

They  let  me  off  easy,  as  you'll  see,  and  some  of  the 
pictures  of  me  are  not  half  bad.  But  I  don't  wonder 
that  George  is  furious.  Just  read  the  descriptions  of 
his  looks — and  really  he's  looking  horribly  seedy. 
And  don't  neglect  the  accounts  of  the  new  Duchess' 
papa,  and  how  he  came  by  his  cash.  He  must  be  a 

gory  old  vulture — though  really  he  doesn't  look  it, 

[38] 


CHAPTER    THREE 

and  except  when  he  gets  to  going  it  hard  his  English 
is  fairly  good,  of  the  nosey,  Yankee  kind. 

George  came  down  to  the  dock  to  meet  me.  He 
was  in  a  blue  fury.  It  seems  the  newspapers  had 
been  making  a  fearful  row  over  him  from  the  moment 
he  left  the  other  side.  And  then  by  illustrated  ac 
counts  of  his  houses,  his  property,  his  family,  and  him 
self,  not  to  speak  of  what  they  printed  about  the 
Dowies'  past  and  present,  they  set  the  crowds  to  col 
lecting  at  his  hotel,  and  to  following  him  round  the 
streets.  They  published  even  what  he  ate  and  drank, 
and  the  size  of  the  tips  he  gave  the  servants.  And 
after  the  engagement  was  announced  the  excitement 
became  something  incredible.  He  couldn't  poke  his 
nose  out  of  his  rooms  that  somebody  didn't  collect  the 
crowd  by  shouting,  "  There's  his  Booklets,  there's  the 
little  fellow  " — and  you  know  Georgie  is  a  bit  sensi 
tive  about  his  size. 

Well,  the  newspapers  published  everything — his 
height  and  weight,  the  tooth  he  has  out  on  the  left 
side,  every  rag  in  his  boxes,  pictures  of  them,  every 
thing  in  Miss  Dowie's  trousseau — columns  and  col 
umns.  And  how  he  did  hop  round  when  he  found  that 
the  Dowies  had  actually  hired  a  fellow  and  a  woman 

[39] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

to  give  out  facts  to  the  press !  What  do  you  think 
of  that  for  a  Yankee  notion? 

You  can't  imagine  the  presents.  You'd  have 
thought  the  crown  princess  was  marrying.  The  news 
papers  say  they  alone  were  worth  a  million  and  a  half, 
American  money.  I  and  Cleggett  went  over  them,  and 
we  decided  they'd  fetch  more.  You  know,  Cleggett 
— he's  Georgie's  solicitor — is  over  here  looking  after 
the  settlements.  He  simply  had  to  put  the  screws 
onto  old  Dowie.  I  got  a  good  many  hints  from  him  on 
how  to  deal  with  these  beggars  in  money  matters. 
Dowie's  a  shrewd  chap.  He  and  Cleggett  did  all  the 
money  talk.  Georgie  was  supposed  to  know  nothing 
about  it.  But  maybe  he  wasn't  in  a  funk  when  it  be 
gan  to  look  as  if  the  whole  business  were  off  at  the 
last  minute.  I  had  to  work  hard  to  keep  him  up  to  the 
mark.  Clegget  won  out,  though — got  a  hundred 
thousand  pounds  more  than  Georgie  expected. 

To  go  back  to  the  presents,  her  uncle — one  of  the 
ha'penny  rags  here  said  he's  been  in  the  penitentiary, 
but  I  hear  it's  not  true — he  gave  her  a  yacht,  a  regular 
ocean  steamer.  You'll  admire  the  necklace  her  aunt 
sent  her — it  can't  have  cost  less  than  fifty  thousand, 
our  money.  It  makes  me  ill  to  see  these  beggars  wad- 

[40] 


CHAPTER    THREE 

ing  and  wallowing  in  money.  By  the  way,  I  notice 
that  while  they  talk  of  spending  money,  they  talk  of 
making  it  as  much  as  they  talk  of  spending  it,  if  not 
more. 

Wallingford,  a  fellow  I've  met  here,  said  to  me  at 
dinner  the  other  night,  a  few  minutes  after  the  women 
had  gone :  "  Shall  we  stay  here  with  the  men  and  dis 
cuss  making  money,  or  shall  we  go  up  to  the  women 
and  discuss  spending  it?  r 

But  to  go  back  to  Georgie  and  his  coming  down  to 
meet  me.  I  saw  him  on  the  pier,  his  face  like  a  sunset 
and  his  arms  going  like  mad.  He  was  haranguing  a 
crowd  in  which  there  were  several  cameras.  I  shouted 
to  him — I  and  Miss  Longview  and  her  father  were  at 
the  rail  together.  As  I  shouted  the  crowd  looked,  and 
the  cameras  were  pointed  at  us.  Miss  Longview  darted 
away,  and  her  father  pulled  at  me. 

"  Come,  come !  "  he  said,  all  in  a  flurry  and  a  sweat. 
"  They'll  take  your  picture  if  you  stay." 

"  Who?  "  said  I.  "  And  why  should  they  take  my 
picture?  " 

"  The  reporters,"  he  answered,  dragging  at  me. 
"  You  don't  understand  about  American  newspapers." 

I  let  him  drag  me  away,  and  then  he  explained. 

[41] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

"  They  know  you  are  coming  to  the  wedding,"  he  said> 
"  and  they'll  photograph  you  and  interview  you  and 
print  everything  about  you — insulting,  impudent 
things.  There's  no  such  thing  as  privacy  in  this  hor 
rible  country.  Didn't  I  tell  you  they  haven't  the 
faintest  notion  what  a  gentleman  is,  or  what  is  due 
a  gentleman  ? ': 

Barney, — I'm  sure  I  told  you  about  him  in  the  let 
ter  I  wrote  you  on  the  way  over, — Barney  was  sitting 
near  us.  He  burst  in  with,  "  I  think  your  friend  is 
unduly  alarmed,  Earl."  (He  always  calls  me  Earl. 
He  says  he'll  be  blanked  if  he'll  call  any  man  lord.) 
*  You  haven't  committed  a  crime,  or  done  what  you'd 
be  ashamed  to  see  in  print.  No  honest  man  objects  to 
having  his  face  published,  or  anything  else  about  him 
that's  true."  And  he  glared  at  Longview,  who  sniffed 
and  walked  away.  Barney  sent  a  jeering  laugh  after 
him,  and  said,  "  The  scrawny  little  chipmunk ! " 

"  What's  a  chipmunk?  "  said  I. 

"  A  kind  of  squirrel,"  said  he,  "  only  littler,  and 
even  easier  to  scare." 

We  went  to  the  rail,  and  there  was  George,  with 
his  crowd  pushing  and  jostling  him.  As  soon  as  the 

gangway  was  let  down  he  rushed  aboard,  the  crowd 

[42] 


CHAPTER    THREE 

with  the  cameras  on  his  heels.  At  the  top  he  turned 
like  Marius,  or  whoever  it  was,  at  the  bridge.  And  he 
shouted  to  the  officers,  in  a  funny,  shrill  voice,  "  Drive 
those  ruffians  back !  "  But  the  officers  were  smiling  at 
him,  and  only  pretended  to  restrain  the  reporters  and 
photographers.  On  they  came,  reaching  us  about  as 
soon  as  George  did.  They  poured  round  and  between 
us,  and  began  to  ask  me  questions.  I  must  admit  they 
were  polite,  in  the  Yankee  way,  and  friendly,  and 
good-natured. 

I  said  to  one  of  'em :  "  I  say,  my  good  fellow,  can't 
you  give  me  time  to  get  my  breath  ?  " 

"  No,  I  can't,  Lord  Frothingham,"  he  said,  laugh 
ing.  "  What  would  you  do  if  you  were  I,  and  your 
paper  were  going  to  press  in  ten  minutes  and  you  were 
five  minutes  from  a  telephone  ?  " 

I  got  on  famously  with  them.  I  didn't  in  the  least 
mind.  They  must  have  liked  me,  as  you'll  read.  But 
Georgie !  How  they  have  been  dishing  him ! 

It  wasn't  until  we  got  into  the  carriage  that  I  and 
he  had  chance  at  each  other.  "  Did  you  ever  see  or 
hear  of  anything  like  it?  "  he  said.  His  hands  were 
shaking,  and  the  sweat  was  rolh'ng  down  his  cheeks. 
"  They  act  like  a  lot  of  South  Sea  savages  when  a 

[43] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

whale  comes  ashore.  They  are  savages.  I  had  heard 

it  was  a  beastly  country,  but "  And  he  actually 

ground  his  teeth. 

You  know  George  is  very  touchy  on  his  dignity, 
and  has  old-fashioned  ideas  of  what's  due  a  Duke  from 
his  inferiors.  It  seems  he  got  into  a  huff  when  he  first 
came  because  they  treated  him  in  offhand  fashion,  as 
they  treat  everybody.  And  he  tried  to  snub  them. 
And  when  they  snubbed  back,  only  they  had  illustrated 
newspapers  to  do  it  in,  he  went  wild,  and  has  been 
making  matters  worse  and  worse  for  himself.  Some 
of  the  papers  have  had  leaders  pitying  Miss  Dowie, 
and  predicting  that  she'll  have  him  in  the  divorce  court 
for  brutality  shortly — think  of  it — Georgie,  quiet 
Georgie!  Everyone  is  hating  him,  for  he  assumed 
that  even  Miss  Dowie's  friends  were  like  the  news 
papers  that  had  slated  him,  and  he  snubbed  right  and 
left. 

He  took  me  to  his  hotel.  He  had  an  apartment  that 
costs  him  fifteen  pounds  a  day — ain't  that  cruel  ?  But 
he  said  he  didn't  propose  that  these  savages  should 
sneer  at  his  poverty — they're  doing  it,  anyhow,  and 
they  hint  that  the  Dowies  are  paying  his  hotel  bill, 
or  will  have  to  pay  it.  However,  I  think  he  did  well 

[44] 


CHAPTER    THREE 

to  spread  himself.  There's  something  about  this 
country  that  makes  you  ashamed  to  seem  poor.  You 
spend  money  and  pretend  you've  got  plenty  of  it. 
They  call  it  "  throwing  a  bluff,"  or  "  making  a  front." 

George  had  taken  an  apartment  for  me  at  a  tall 
price,  but  I  wouldn't  have  it,  as  I  wouldn't  saddle  him 
with  the  expense — he  hadn't  her  money  in  hand  then. 
Besides,  I  knew  that  as  soon  as  he  was  gone  I'd  have  to 
come  down,  and  that  would  have  looked  bad.  After  I 
was  installed  in  a  very  comfortable  little  apartment 
thirteen  floors  up — think  of  that ! — at  three  pounds  a 
day,  we  drove  to  Dowie's.  A  crowd  saw  us  off  at  the 
hotel,  people  pointed  and  stared  at  us  all  the  way  up 
the  street,  and  there  was  a  crowd  waiting  for  us  at 
Dowie's.  They  live  in  a  huge  greystone  castle, — 
there  is  no  end  of  smart  houses  here,  but  a  queer  jum 
ble — samples  of  everything.  I  hadn't  known  old 
Dowie  an  hour  before  he  told  me  the  house  and  ground 
and  all  cost  him  six  hundred  thousand,  our  money. 

The  girl — but  you'll  judge  her  for  yourself.  I 
rather  fancied  her.  Affected,  of  course,  and  trying 
to  act  a  duchess  out  of  one  of  Ouida's  novels.  Rather 
fat,  too,  and  her  hair  is  thin,  and  a  mussy  shade  of 
yellow.  I  think  she'll  waddle  in  about  five  years. 

[45] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

Still,  she's  sensible  and  quick,  and  dresses  well.  All 
the  women  here  do  that.  But  the  money !  It's  heart 
rending  to  see  it  parade  by.  And  they  seem  to  be 
throwing  it  away,  but  they  don't.  Everything  is  hor 
ribly  dear  here.  I  must  look  sharp  or  I  sha'n't  last 
long. 

The  newspapers  will  give  you  all  you  want  to  know 
about  the  wedding — it  was  quite  a  show — perhaps  vul 
gar  and  overdone,  but  really  gorgeous.  I  like  Amer 
ica,  and  I  like  the  people.  They're  jolly  good-natured, 
and  the  nice  ones  here  are  much  the  same  as  nice  people 
anywhere  else.  The  Longviews  have  taken  a  big 
furnished  house,  and  I'm  staying  with  them.  Next 
week  a  friend  of  Miss  Longview — a  Miss  Hollister, 
who  lives  here,  but  her  people  are  still  in  the  country 
— is  coming  to  visit  her.  Her  (Miss  Hollister's) 
father  owns  a  lot  of  railways  and  mines,  and  is  no  end 
of  a  financial  swell.  I'm  too  sleepy  to  write  another 
word,  except 

ARTHUR. 

How  is  Gwen?  Be  good  to  me,  Evelyn — with 
love —  A. 


[46] 


He    liked    the    very    first    glimpse    of    her 


HONORIA  took  Frothingham  to  the  .  Grand 
Central  Station  to  meet  Catherine,  and  he  liked 
the  very  first  glimpse  of  her  as  she  came  strid 
ing  down  the  platform.  She  was  tall  and  narrow,  and 
she  wore  dresses  and  wraps  that  emphasised  both  these 
characteristics.  She  had  a  long,  thin  neck  and  a  small, 
delicately  coloured  face,  which  she  knew  how  to  frame 
most  fascinatingly  in  her  hair,  with  or  without  the  aid 
of  her  hat.  She  had  dreamy  young  eyes,  long  and 
narrow,  and  her  red  lips  and  her  slender,  nervous  fin 
gers  made  it  clear  that  she  lived  in  her  senses  rather 
than  in  her  intellect — that  she  would  neither  say  nor 
think  anything  brilliant,  but  would  feel  intensely,  and 
could  be  powerfully  appealed  to  through  her  imagina 
tion.  She  was  wearing  a  light  brown,  brightly  lined 
coat  that  trailed  to  her  heels ;  and  she  was  holding  up 
from  the  dust  and  close  about  her  many  folds  of  soft, 
fine  materials,  cloth  and  silk  and  linen  and  lace.  In 
her  wake  came  a  maid  and  a  porter,  each  laden  with 

[47] 


CHAPTER    FOUR 

her  belongings,  an  attractive  array  of  comforts  and 
luxuries  of  travel. 

"  I'm  glad  you  brought  a  closed  carriage,"  she  said, 
with  a  shiver,  as  they  started  for  home.  "  It's  raw, 
and  the  sky  seems  to  weigh  upon  one's  shoulders  and 
head.  This  is  a  day  to  hide  in  the  house,  close  by  an 
open  fire." 

Frothingham  was  surprised  by  this  fairy-princess 
delicateness  in  so  robust  a  creature.  He  thought  the 
day  mild,  and  as  for  the  sky,  why  bother  about  any 
thing  that  far  away,  so  long  as  it  sent  nothing  down 
to  bother  one? 

"  You  forget  we  are  English,"  said  Honoria.  "  We 
call  this  good  weather.  I  must  confess  the  closed  car 
riage  was  a  happy  accident." 

"  So  like  you,  Honoria !  Isn't  it,  Lord  Frothing 
ham  ?  "  Catherine  gave  him  a  sweet  smile.  "  She 
never  permits  one  to  keep  agreeable  illusions.  Now, 
I  was  loving  her  for  being  so  thoughtful  for  me." 

As  Frothingham  only  stared,  shy  and  stolid, 
through  his  eyeglass,  the  two  girls  began  to  talk  each 
to  the  other — they  had  not  met  in  two  years,  not  since 
Catherine  and  her  mother  visited  Honoria  at  Long- 
view's  place  in  Bucks. 

[48] 


CHAPTER    FOUR 

"  What  a  beautiful  place  it  was ! "  said  Catherine. 
"  I  often  dream  of  it.  But  then,  I  love  England.  It 
is  of  such  a  wonderful,  vivid  shade  of  green,  and  every 
thing  is  so  cultivated,  and  refined,  and — and — like  a 
fairy  garden.  Don't  you  find  the  contrast  very  great, 
Lord  Frothingham  ?  We  are  very  new  and  wild." 

"  I've  seen  only  people  since  I've  been  here.  I  must 
say  the  people — at  least,  those  I've  met — remind  me 
of  home,  except  that  they  speak  the  language  differ 
ently.  As  for  the  city,  it's  not  at  all  as  I  fancied.  It's 
much  like  Paris — more  attractive  than  London,  not  so 
gloomy." 

"  Paris !  "  Catherine  smiled,  with  gently  reproach 
ful  satire.  "  Oh,  you  flatter  us." 

"  I  like  it  better,"  insisted  Frothingham.  "  It's 
Paris  with  English  in  the  streets — I  hate  Frenchmen." 

"  No,  they're  not  nice  to  look  at — the  men,"  admit 
ted  Catherine.  "  But  I  adore  what  they've  done. 
What  would  the  world  be  without  France?  '"  , 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  said  Frothingham,  with  his 
cynical,  enthusiasm-discouraging  drawl.  "  They're 
hysterical  beggars,  always  exploding  for  no  reason. 
It  makes  me  nervous.  I  like  quiet  and  comfort." 

"  Lord  Frothingham  isn't  so  sensible  as  he  pre- 

[49] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

tends,"  put  in  Honoria.  "  He's  really  almost  as  sen 
timental  and  emotional  as  you  are,  Catherine." 

"  Oh,  but  I'm  neither,"  replied  Catherine.  "  I  don't 
dare  to  be.  If  I  find  myself  the  least  bit  enthusiastic 
I  catch  myself  up  and  look  round,  frightened  lest 
somebody  may  have  noticed.  I'm  such  a  liar — we  all 
are  over  here.  Don't  you  like  sincerity,  Lord  Froth- 
ingham  ?  " 

"  I — I  suppose  so."  Frothingham  looked  vague. 
"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  Catherine's  "  intensity  "  con 
fused  him. 

"  I  mean  being  true  to  one's  self,  and  not  ashamed 
to  show  one's  self  as  one  is,  and  never  afraid  to  tell  the 
truth." 

"  But  all  of  us  do  that,  don't  we  ?  "  said  Frothing 
ham.  There  was  a  twinkle  in  his  eye — or  was  it  only 
the  reflection  of  light  from  his  glass? 

Honoria  gave  him  her  "  candid  friend  "  look.  "  No 
body  does,"  said  she.  "  That  is,  nobody  who  has  tem 
perament  enough  to  lead  any  sort  of  life  above  an 
oyster's." 

"  But  I  can  see  at  a  glance  that  Lord  Frothingham 
has  temperament."  Catherine  looked  at  him  with  in 
tensely  sympathetic  appreciation.  "  Yes,  men  can  be 

[50] 


CHAPTER    FOUR 

sincere  and  truthful.  But  women  must  always  repress 
their  real  selves." 

Frothingham  looked  stolid  and  hopeless.  When 
ever  conversation  turned  on  abstractions  he  felt  like  a 
man  fumbling  and  stumbling  about  in  a  London  fog. 
"  Really  ?  "  he  said.  "  Really,  now?  " 

"  I  don't  know  why  women  fancy  they  must  be 
liars,"  said  Honoria.  "  Do  you  mind  dining  at  Sher 
ry's  to-night? ';  Catherine  in  her  psychological 
moods  bored  her.  She  sometimes  ventured  on  aerial 
flights,  but  had  no  fancy  for  aerial  flounderings. 

"  Sherry's?  That  will  be  delightful!  I  like  din 
ing  at  restaurants — I'm  very  American  in  that  re 
spect." 

"  But  so  do  I,"  said  Frothingham.  "  That  is,  in 
your  restaurants  here.  The  people  are  interesting, 
and  they  talk  a  lot,  and  loud  enough  so  that  one  hears 
every  word  and  isn't  annoyed  by  missing  the  sense. 
And  how  they  do  waste  the  food ! " 

"  Food ! "  Catherine  repeated  the  word  with  a 
smile  that  was  half-humourous,  half  pleading. 
"  Please  don't  use  that  word,  Lord  Frothingham.  It 
always  makes  me  shiver.  It  sounds  so — so  animal ! 5! 

Frothingham  put  on  the  blank  look  behind  which  he 

[51] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

habitually  sheltered  himself  when  he  did  not  know 
what  to  say,  or  to  do,  or  to  think.  Honoria  was  dis 
gusted  with  him  and  with  Catherine.  "  They're  not 
going  to  like  each  other,  not  even  enough  to  marry," 
she  said  to  herself.  "  And  it's  a  pity,  as  they're 
exactly  suited.  If  Catherine  only  wouldn't 
pose ! " 

She  was,  therefore,  somewhat  surprised  when,  im 
mediately  she  and  Catherine  were  alone,  Catherine 
burst  into  rhapsody  on  Frothingham.  "  What  a  fine, 
strong  face!  So  much  character!  What  a  sincere, 
sensitive,  pure  nature.  He's  a  splendid  type  of  true 
gentleman,  isn't  he,  Nora?  How  well  he  contrasts 
with  our  men!  Doesn't  he?" 

Honoria  smiled  to  herself.  "  She  wants  to  marry 
him,"  she  thought,  "  and  she's  building  a  fire  under 
her  imagination.  I  might  have  known  it.  She's  the 
very  person  to  weave  romance  over  a  title  and  imagine 
it  all  gospel.  What  a  poser ! "  To  Catherine  she 
said :  "  He's  a  decent  enough  chap,  Caterina.  And 
you'll  admire  him  more  than  ever  when  you've  read 
him  up  in  Burke's  Peerage  and  looked  at  the  pictures 
he's  given  me  of  Beauvais  House." 

"How  do  you  spell  it?     B-e-v-i-s?" 

[52] 


CHAPTER    FOUR 

"  No,  that's  the  way  you  pronounce  it.  You  spell 
it  B-e-a-u-v-a-i-s." 

"Isn't  that  interesting?  It's  so  commonplace  to 
pronounce  a  word  the  way  it's  spelt,  don't  you 
think?  " 

"  I  never  thought  of  it,  my  dear.  Why  not  marry 
him?" 

"  You  are  so  abrupt  and — and  practical,  Honoria," 
said  Catherine  plaintively.  "  But  you  are  a  dear.  I 
should  never  marry  a  man  unless  I  loved  him." 

Honoria  looked  faintly  cynical.  "  Certainly  not. 
But  surely  you  can  love  any  man  you  make  up  your 
mind  to  marry.  What  is  your  imagination  for  ?  " 

At  Sherry's  that  night,  besides  Honoria,  Catherine, 
Longview,  and  Frothingham,  there  were  at  Longview's 
table  Mrs.  Carnarvon,  of  the  hunting  set,  and  Joe 
Wallingford — he  hunts  and  writes  verse,  both  badly, 
and  looks  and  talks,  both  extremely  well.  Honoria  de 
voted  herself  to  Wallingford  and  so  released  Catherine 
and  Frothingham  each  upon  the  other — she  listened 
for  a  few  seconds  now  and  then  to  note  their  progress. 

"  It's  a  go,"  she  said  to  herself  with  the  match 
maker's  thrill  of  triumph,  as  the  cold  dessert  was 

served.     She  saw  that  Frothingham    had    ceased   to 

[53] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

listen,  and  so  had  ceased  to  puzzle;  his  eyeglass  was 
trained  steadily  and  sympathetically  upon  Cather 
ine's  fascinating  beauty — why  weary  the  brain  when 
it  might  rest  and  enjoy  itself  through  the  eyes? 
Catherine  was  talking  on  and  on,  quoting  poetry,  tell 
ing  Frothingham  of  her  emotions,  telling  him  of  his 
emotions — he  did  not  have  them,  but  she  was  so  earnest 
that  he  was  half  convinced. 

"  When  you  said  this  afternoon  that  you  liked 
things  quiet  and  comfortable,"  she  said,  "  I  felt  that 
it  was  splendidly  in  keeping  with  your  character.  I 
saw  that  you  hated  all  this  noise  and  display,  that 
you  like  to  get  away  in  your  own  corner  of  your  beau 
tiful  England  and  live  grandly  and  quietly — near 
Nature." 

If  Catherine  had  not  been  beautiful  and  rich  he 
would  have  said  to  himself,  "  What  rubbish !  "  But, 
as  it  was,  he  thought  her  profound  and  spiritual.  And 
he  said,  trying  to  touch  bottom  and  get  a  firm  stand 
upon  firm  earth,  "  I  think  you'd  like  Beauvais." 

"  I'm  sure  I  should,"  replied  Catherine  with  en 
thusiasm.  "  Honoria  was  showing  me  the  photo 
graphs  of  it.  I  admire  the  great,  stately  old  house. 

But  I  liked  best  of  all  the  picture  of  the  woods  and 

[54] 


CHAPTER    FOUR 

the  brook.  It  reminded  me  of  those  lines  of  Cole 
ridge's — they  are  so  beautiful — where  he  speaks  of 
the  brook — 

" ( In  the  leafy  month  of  June 

That  to  the  sleeping  woods  all  night 
Singeth  a  quiet  tune.' 

Don't  you  think  those  lines  fine?  Do  I  quote  them 
right?  " 

"  Yes — I  think  so — that  is,"  stammered  Frothing- 
ham,  "  it's  a  jolly  brook,  but  we  call  it  a  river."  Then 
to  himself :  "  What  an  ass  she'll  think  me !  "  But  the 
starting  sweat  stayed,  for  she  asked  him  no  more  ques 
tions;  and  he,  freed  from  the  anxiety  of  having  to 
try  to  soar  with  her,  was  able  to  sit  quietly  and  en 
joy  her  beauty,  and  the  murmurous  rush  of  her  low, 
musical  voice — "  It's  like  the  brook  that  brute  she 
quoted  wrote  about,"  he  thought. 

He  did  not  drive  home  with  his  party,  but  accepted 
Wallingford's  invitation  to  walk  in  the  fresh  night 
air  to  his  club.  "  Your  American  women  are  tre 
mendously  clever,"  he  said,  as  they  were  strolling 
along.  He  was  feeling  dazed  and  dizzy  from  the 
whirl  of  his  emotions,  the  whirls  and  shocks  Catherine 
Hollister  had  given  his  brain. 

[55] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

"Yes,  they're  clever,"  replied  Wallingford,  "but 
not  in  the  way  they  think  they  are.  Take  Kitty  Hoi- 
lister,  for  example.  She's  all  right  when  she  wants  to 
be.  She  thinks  sense.  But  what  a  raft  of  fuzzy  trash 
she  does  float  out  when  she  gets  a-going.  I  pitied  you 
this  evening.  She  laid  herself  out  to  impress  you. 
You're  staying  in  the  house  with  her,  aren't  you?  I 
suppose  she  whoops  it  up  whenever  you're  round?  " 

"  I  find  her  very  clever — and  interesting,"  said 
Frothingham  somewhat  stiffly. 

"  Of  course  she  is.  I've  known  her  for  seventeen. of 
the  nineteen  years  she's  gladdened  the  earth — and  I 
ought  to  know  her  pretty  well.  But  she's  like  a  lot  of 
the  women  in  this  town.  They  haven't  any  emotions 
to  speak  of — nothing  emotional  happens.  But  they 
think  they  ought  to  have  emotions  such  as  they  read 
about,  and  so  they  fake  'em.  Then,  they've  got  the 
craze  for  culture.  They  haven't  the  time  to  get  the 
real  thing — they're  too  busy  showing  off.  Besides, 
they're  too  lazy.  So  they  fake  culture,  too.  Oh,  yes, 
they're  clever.  And  they  look  so  well  that  you  like 
the  fake  as  they  parade  it  better  than  the  real  thing." 

"  We  have  that  sort  in  London,"  said  Frothingham. 

"  So  I've  observed.  But  it's  done  rather  better 

[56] 


CHAPTER    FOUR 

there — they're  older  hands  at  it.  If  you  weren't  an 
Englishman,  I'd  say  it  fitted  in  better  among  the 
other  shams.  I  suppose  you've  noticed  that  many 
people  here  are  imitation  English  or  French?  You've 
seen  the  tags  '  Made  in  England,'  '  Made  in  France,' 
*  Made  in  England,  finished  in  France '  ?  ': 

"  I've  noticed  similarities,"  replied  Frothingham 
tactfully. 

"  It's  all  imitation  stuff — the  labels  are  frauds. 
We  over  here  don't  know  how  to  be  gracefully  idle  and 
inane,  as  your  upper  classes  do.  It's  not  in  us  any 
where.  We  haven't  the  tradition — our  tradition  is  all 
against  it.  Whenever  we  do  produce  a  thoroughly 
idle  and  inane  person,  he  or  she  goes  abroad  to  live, 
or  else  loses  all  his  money  to  some  sharp,  pushing  fel 
low,  and  drops  out  of  sight.  All  this  aristocracy  you 
see  is  pure  pose.  Underneath,  they're  Americans." 

"  What  is  an  American  ?  "  asked  Frothingham. 
"  Every  time  I  think  I've  seen  one,  along  comes  some 
native  and  tells  me  I'm  wrong.  Are  you  an  Amer- 
can?" 

"  Underneath — yes.  On  the  surface — no.  I  used 
to  be,  but  now  I'm  posing  with  the  rest  of  'em.  You'll 
have  to  get  out  of  New  York  to  see  Americans.  There 

[57] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

are  droves  of  'em  here,  but  they're  so  scattered  in 
places  you'll  never  go  to  that  you  couldn't  find  them. 
You'd  better  go  West  if  you  wish  to  be  sure  of  seeing 
the  real  thing." 

"  It's  very  confusing.  How  shall  I  know  this  Amer 
ican  when  I  see  him  ?  " 

"  When  you  see  a  man  or  a  woman  who  looks  as  if 
he  or  she  would  do  something  honest  and  valuable, 
who  looks  you  straight  in  the  eyes,  and  makes  you  feel 
proud  that  you're  a  human  being  and  ashamed  that 
you  are  not  a  broader,  better,  honester  one — that's  an 
American."  And  then  he  smiled  with  his  eyes  so 
queerly  that  Frothingham  could  not  decide  whether  or 
not  he  was  jesting. 

At  the  club  Wallingford  introduced  him  into  a 
large  circle  of  young  men,  seated  round  two  tables 
pushed  together,  and  covered  with  "  high  balls,"  and 
bottles  of  carbonated  water,  and  silver  bowls  of 
cracked  ice.  He  said  little,  drank  his  whiskey  and 
water,  and  listened.  "  It's  the  talk  of  stock  brokers 
and  tradesmen,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  Yet  these  fel 
lows  are  certainly  gentlemen,  and  they  don't  talk 
business  in  the  least  like  our  middle-class  people.  It's 
very  confusing." 

[58] 


CHAPTER    FOUR 

After  he  left  the  others  were  most  friendly,  and  even 
admiring,  in  their  comments  upon  him. 

"  He's  monotonous,  and  poor,  and  will  never  have 
anything  unless  he  marries  it,"  said  Wallingford. 
"  If  he  were  a  plain,  poor,  incapable,  rather  dull 
American,  is  there  one  of  us  that  would  waste  five 
minutes  on  him?  " 

There  was  silence,  then  a  laugh. 


[59] 


WALLINGFORD  and  Frothingham  devel 
oped  a  warm  friendship.  Wallingford  was 
extremely  suspicious  of  himself  in  it,  but 
after  a  searching  self-analysis  decided  that  his  liking 
for  the  Earl  was  to  a  certain  extent  genuine.  "  He 
doesn't  know  much — at  least,  he  acts  as  if  he  didn't. 
But  he's  clever  in  a  curious  way,  and  a  good  listener, 
and  not  a  bit  of  a  fakir.  No  doubt  he's  on  the  look 
out  for  a  girl  with  cash,  but  English  ideas  on  that  sub-  \ 
ject  are  different  from  ours — that  is,  from  what  ours 
are  supposed  to  be.  He's  a  type  of  English  gentle 
man,  and  not  a  bad  type  of  gentleman  without  any 
qualification." 

When  he  expressed  some  such  ideas  to  Catherine 
Hollister,  at  a  dance  given  for  her  by  Mrs.  Carnar 
von,  she  went  so  much  further  in  praise  of  Frothing 
ham  that  he  laughed.  "  So  that's  the  way  the  wind 
blows,  eh  ?  "  he  said,  grinning  at  her  satirically. 

She  coloured,  and  put  on  the  look  of  an  offended 

saint. 

[60] 


CHAPTER    FIVE 

"  Countess  of  Frothingham,"  he  went  on,  undis 
turbed.  "  That  would  sound  romantic,  wouldn't  it? 
Catherine,  Countess  of  Frothingham !  " 

"  How  can  you  be  so  coarse-fibred  in  some  ways, 
Joe,  and  so  fine  in  others?  "  she  said  reproachfully. 

"  I  don't  know,  dear  lady.  I  suppose  because  I'm 
human — just  like  you." 

"  Let  us  dance,"  was  her  only  reply.  She  had 
known  Joe  so  long  that  she  couldn't  help  liking  him, 
but  he  certainly  was  trying. 

Later  in  the  evening,  remembering  Joe's  cruelty 
and  sordidness,  she  said  to  Frothingham :  "  You  don't 
know  what  a  pleasure  it  is  to  the  finer  women  over  here 
to  meet  foreign  men.  They  are  so  much  more  subtle 
and  sympathetic.  They  are  not  coarsened  by  busi 
ness.  They  are  not  mercenary." 

She  raised  her  dreamy  eyes  to  his  as  she  spoke  the 
word  "  mercenary."  He  reddened  and  stumbled — 
they  were  dancing  the  two-step.  "  I  wish  you  wouldn't 
look  at  me  like  that,"  he  said,  with  an  ingenuousness 
wholly  unconscious.  "  It  reminds  me  of  my  sins,  and 
— and — all  that." 

She  trembled  slightly,  as  he  could  plainly  feel  in 
his  encircling  arm.  He  looked  down  at  her — she  al- 

[61] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

ways  was  ethereally  beautiful  in  evening  dress.  In  his 
admiration  he  almost  forgot  how  rich  she  was ;  he  quite 
forgot  how  oppressively  intellectual  she  was.  "  Do 
you — do  you "  he  began.  Then  he  stopped  danc 
ing  and  led  her  into  the  hall,  through  the  hall  to  the 
library.  Two  other  couples  were  there,  but  far  enough 
from  the  corner  to  which  he  took  her. 

"  May  I  smoke?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  love  the  odour  of  a  cigarette,"  she  replied,  in  a 
voice  that  encouraged  him  to  resume  where  he  had  ab 
ruptly  left  off. 

"  Perhaps  you  will  smoke?  " 

"  No,"  she  said,  in  a  tone  that  was  subtly  modu 
lated  to  mean  apology  or  reproach,  according  as  he 
liked  or  disliked  women  smoking. 

"Do  you  really  like  England?"  he  began  nerv 
ously,  seeing  to  it  that  his  glass  was  firmly  ad 
justed. 

"  I  adore  it ! "  Usually  she  would  have  gone  on 
into  poetical  prose  unlimited.  But  this,  she  felt,  was 
a  time  for  short  answers. 

"  Would   you — mind   England — with — with " 

He  halted  altogether,  and  she  slowly  raised  her 
heavy  lids  until  her  eyes  met  his. 

[62] 


CHAPTER    FIVE 

"  Catherine !  "  He  seized  her  hand,  and  the  thrill 
of  her  touch  went  through  him.  "  You  are  so  lovely. 
I — I'm  horribly  fond  of  you." 

She  sighed.  "  Isn't  it  beautiful?  "  she  said.  "This 
lovely  dance — these  fascinating  surroundings — the 

music — the  dim  lights — and — and "     She  lifted 

her  eyes  to  his  again. 

He  murmured  her  name,  threw  away  his  cigarette, 
looked  round  to  see  where  the  other  eyes  in  that  room 
were,  then  clasped  her  round  the  waist  for  an  instant. 
"  Will  you  ?  Will  you  ?  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  in  a  tone  so  faint  that  he  barely 
heard. 

"  You  have  made  me  happy."    And  he  meant  it. 

"  How  satisfactory  she  is  in  every  way,"  he  was  say 
ing  to  himself.  "  Looks,  money,  everything.  I'm  a 
lucky  dog."  And  she  was  saying  to  herself,  "  Count 
ess  of  Frothingham !  How  strong  and  fine  and  simple 
he  is.  I  love  him !  "  But  when  he  suggested  speaking 
to  her  father  at  once  she  would  not  have  it.  "  No — I 
want  it  to  be  just  our  secret  for  a  little  while,"  she 
pleaded.  "  Don't  you?  '  He  did  not  see  any  reason 
for  it,  but  he  said  "  Yes  "  with  a  surface  reflection  of 
her  earnestness. 

[63] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

"  It's  a  pity  the  world  ever  should  know  anything 
about  it,  don't  you  think  so?  "  she  went  on. 

"  I'm  very  impatient  to  claim  my  countess,"  he  an 
swered. 

She  liked  the  "  countess,"  but  the  "  my  "  jarred 
slightly  in  her  sensitive  ear — she  was  "  acquiring  "  an 
earl,  not  he  a  countess. 

"  Not  too  long,"  he  remonstrated.  It  was  all  very 
well  for  her  to  be  romantic — he  wouldn't  have  liked  it 
if  he  had  not  inspired  some  romance.  But  why  should 
either  of  them  wish  to  delay  ratifying  the  bargain  that 
was  the  real  purpose  in  view  ?  Certainly  he  wished  no 
delay.  And  there  was  much  to  be  arranged — settle 
ments,  a  trousseau,  a  host  of  time-consuming  prelimi 
naries.  Not  a  day  should  be  lost  in  getting  under 
way.  His  creditors,  impatiently  awaiting  the  event  of 
his  American  adventure,  might  become  ugly.  He  hated 
ugly  letters  and  cablegrams  almost  as  much  as  he 
hated  ugly  "  scenes."  No,  he  felt  strongly  on  the  sub 
ject  of  long  engagements. 

His  heart  was  full  of  her  beauty — he  had  drunk  a 
good  deal  at  supper  half  an  hour  before.  His  head 
was  full  of  her  dowry — he  never  drank  so  much  that 

he  forgot  business.     "  How  could  I  evade  if  anyone 

[64] 


CHAPTER    FIVE 

should  congratulate  me?  "  he  asked.  And  then  he 
wished  he  had  not  said  it,  but  had  made  that  the  ex 
cuse  for  not  obeying  her. 

"  You  must  deny  it,  as  I  shall.  You  know,  we're 
not  really  fully  engaged  until  I'm  ready  to  have  it  an 
nounced.  Besides,  as  Joe  Wallingford  says,  a  lie  in 
self-defence  isn't  a  lie.  And  self-defence  isn't  either  a 
crime  or  a  sin,  is  it?  I  think  self-defence  against  pry 
ing  is  a  virtue,  don't  you  ?  " 

A  man  came  to  claim  her  for  a  dance.  She  smiled 
sweetly  at  him,  plaintively  at  Frothingham,  and  went 
back  to  the  ballroom.  Frothingham  stood  in  the  door 
way  watching  her  for  a  few  minutes,  then  went  away 
from  the  dance  to  walk  and  think  and  enjoy.  But 
his  mind  was  depressed.  "  Too  much  supper,"  he 
grumbled.  "  I  ought  to  be  tossing  my  hat.  I  don't 
deserve  her  and  my  luck.  Her  cash  will  put  us  right 
for  the  first  time  since  my  great-grandfather  ruined 
us  by  going  the  Prince  Regent's  gait.  We  shall  re 
store  Beauvais  House  and  take  the  place  in  Carlton 
Terrace  again.  Gad!  what  a  relief  it  will  be  to  feel 
free  in  my  mind  about  cab  fares,  and  not  to  claim  com 
missions  from  my  tailor  when  I  send  him  customers.  I 
shall  be  able  to  live  up  to  the  title  and  the  tradi- 

[65] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

tions "     He  painted  vividly,  but  in  vain.     He 

caught  himself  looking  away  from  the  glowing  pic 
tures  and  sighing.  "  Yes,  she's  pretty — devilish  pretty 
— and  a  high  stepper,  but — Gwen  would  be  so  com 
fortable  so  d n  comfortable !  " 

Honoria  suspected  their  secret,  yet  doubted  the  cor 
rectness  of  her  intuitions.  "  She'd  parade  it,"  she 
reflected,  "  if  she  were  really  engaged  to  him.  There 

x, 

must  be  a  hitch  somewhere."  And  her  wonder  grew  as 
the  report  of  their  engagement  spread  only  to  be 
strenuously  denied  by  Catherine. 

Catherine  was  almost  tearful  in  lamenting  this  "  im 
pertinent  gossip  "  to  her.  "  Isn't  it  hateful,  Honoria," 
she  said,  "  that  a  young  man  and  a  young  woman  can't 
be  civil  and  friendly  to  each  other  when  they're  visit 
ing  in  the  same  house,  without  all  the  busybodies  try 
ing  to  embarrass  them?  Did  you  see  the  papers  this 
morning?  How  dare  they  print  it !  " 

Honoria  smiled  at  this  mock  indignation.  "  Where's 
the  injury  to  you  in  crediting  you  with  landing  an 
earl?  "  she  asked. 

Catherine  gave  her  a  look  of  melancholy  reproach. 
"  Do  you  know,"  she  said  dreamily,  "  I  don't  think  of 
him  as  an  earl  any  longer?  His  character  makes 

[66] 


CHAPTER    FIVE 

everything  else  about  him  seem  of  no  consequence. 
Don't  you  think  he  is  a  remarkable  man  ?  " 

"  A  little  less  remarkable  than  a  marquis,  a  little 
more  remarkable  than  a  viscount — and  in  comparison 
with  a  baronet  or  a  plain  esquire,  a  positive  genius ! " 
replied  Honoria. 

Frothingham  was  more  and  more  uncomfortable. 
Catherine  took  him  everywhere  in  her  train  and,  with 
seeming  unconsciousness  of  what  she  was  doing,  fairly 
flaunted  him  as  her  devoted  attendant.  Yet  only  when 
they  were  alone  did  she  ever  betray  that  she  had  more 
than  a  polite,  friendly  interest  in  him.  He  would  have 
got  angry  at  her,  would  have  made  vigorous  protest, 
but  how  was  it  possible  to  bring  such  sordidness  as 
mere  vulgar  appearances  to  the  attention  of  so  inno 
cent  and  high-minded  a  creature  ?  He  restrained  him 
self,  or,  rather,  was  restrained — until  Horse  Show 
week. 

Those  afternoons  and  evenings  of  dragging  at  the 
divine  Catherine's  chariot  wheels  before  the  eyes  of  the 
multitude  were  too  much  for  him.  It  was  one  of  the 
years  when  the  Horse  Show  was  the  fashion  for  the 
fashionable.  Not  only  the  racing  set  and  the  hunting 
set,  but  also  the  dancing  and  the  dressing  and  the 

[67] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

literary  and  artistic  sets,  and  the  fadless,  but  none  the 
less  frivolous,  set,  flocked  there  day  and  evening  to 
crowd  the  boxes  with  a  dazzling  display  of  dresses, 
wraps,  jewels,  and  free-and-easy  manners.  At  first 
Frothingham  gaped  almost  as  amazedly  as  the  multi 
tude  that  poured  slowly  and  thickly  round  the  prom 
enade,  eyes  glued  upon  the  occupants  of  the  boxes, 
never  a  glance  to  spare  for  the  ring  from  the  cyclb- 
rama  of  luxury  and  fashion.  "  And  at  a  horse  show !  " 
he  muttered,  as  he  noted  the  hats  and  gowns  made  to 
be  shown  only  in  houses,  or  in  carriages  on  the  way  to 
and  from  houses,  but  there  exhibited  amid  the  dust  of 
the  show  ring.  "  What  rotten  bad  taste !  " 

He  was  astounded  to  find  Catherine  outdone  by  none 
in  extravagant  out-of-placeness  of  ostentation — as  he 
regarded  it.  Day  after  day,  night  after  night,  she 
showed  herself  off  to  her  friends  and  to  the  craning 
throngs  of  the  promenade  in  a  kaleidoscopic  series  of 
wonderful  "  creations."  And  she  insisted  that  he 
should  always  be  in  close  attendance.  As  he  sat  beside 
her  he  heard  the  comments  of  the  crowd — there  was  al 
ways  a  crowd  in  front  of  Longview's  box :  "  That's  the 
girl." — "  Yes,  and  the  fellow  beside  her,  with  the  eye 
glass,  he's  the  Earl." — "  I  don't  know  how  much — 

[68] 


CHAPTER    FIVE 

some  say  a  million — some  say  two  or  three." — "  He 
looks  dull,  but  then  all  Englishmen  look  that." — "  I'll 
bet  he  could  be  a  brute.  Look  what  a  heavy  jaw  he's 
got." — "  She'll  be  sick  of  him  before  she's  had  him 
a  year." 

Did  Catherine  hear?  he  wondered.  Apparently  not. 
He  never  surprised  in  her  face  or  manner  a  hint  of 
consciousness  of  self  or  of  being  stared  at  and  com 
mented  upon.  "  But  she  can't  avoid  hearing,"  he  said 
to  himself.  "  These  asses  are  braying  right  in  her 
ears.  And  why  should  she  get  herself  up  in  all  these 
clothes,  if  it  ain't  to  be  stared  at?  " 

And,  between  performances,  the  performers  in  the 
Longview  box  dined  in  the  palm  garden  at  the  Wal 
dorf,  with  their  acquaintances  at  the  surrounding  ta 
bles,  and  gossip  of  their  engagement  flying,  and  curi 
ous  glances  straying  toward  them  over  the  tops  of 
wine-glasses,  and  whispers  and  smiles — and  Catherine 
soulful  and  unconscious.  On  Friday  night,  as  they 
drove  from  the  Waldorf  to  the  Garden — she  had 
given  him  her  hand  to  hold  under  cover  of  the 
lap-robe — she  said,  with  a  sigh :  "  I'm  so  glad 
it's  nearly  over.  Only  to-night  and  to-morrow 
night." 

[69] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

"  Not  to-morrow  afternoon?  "  asked  Frothingham. 
"  Why  do  we  miss  a  chance  to  exhibit  ?  " 

"  Only  the  servants  and  the  children  go  to-morrow 
afternoon,"  replied  Catherine  sweetly.  "  I'm  worn  out 
and  sick  of  it  all.  So  many  go  merely  for  self -display ; 
so  few  of  us,  not  to  speak  of  those  dreadful  people  in 
the  promenade,  care  anything  about  the  dear,  beauti 
ful,  noble  horses." 

"  Why  look  at  horses,"  said  Honoria,  "  when  there's 
a  human  show  that's  so  much  more  interesting?  It 
may  be  vulgar,  but  it's  amusing.  I'm  afraid  my  tastes 
are  not  refined." 

Frothingham  looked  at  her  with  the  expression  of  a 
thirsty  man  who  is  having  a  glass  of  cold  water. 
"  That's  what  I  think,"  said  he.  "  And  I'm  fond  of 
horses."  A  faint  sneer  in  his  satirical  drawl  made 
Catherine  give  him  a  furtive  glance  of  anxiety — was 
the  worm  thinking  of  turning? 

When  they  were  in  the  box  and  the  others  were  busy 
she  said  to  him,  in  her  tenderest  tone :  "  You're  dread 
fully  bored  by  all  this,  aren't  you?  And  I  thought  it 
would  give  you  pleasure  for  us  to  be  together  so 
much." 

The  surliness  cleared  from  his  face  somewhat.  "  No, 

[70] 


lAs  if  we  were  a  pair  of  new  chimpanzees  in  a  zoo' 


CHAPTER    FIVE 

I'm  not  bored.  But  I  hate  to  be  shown  off.  And,  while 
you've  been  unconscious  of  it,  the  fact  is  that  you  and 
I  have  been  sitting  here  in  this  cage  five  or  six  hours  a 
day,  gaped  at  as  if  we  were  a  pair  of  new  chimpanzees 
in  a  zoo."  As  he  remembered  his  wrongs,  his  anger 
rose  upon  the  wine  he  had  freely  drunk  at  dinner. 
"  It's  what  I  call  low — downright  rotten,  Catherine," 
he  finished  energetically. 

"  I  wish  you  wouldn't  use  that  dreadful  word,"  she 
said,  tears  in  her  eyes,  but  a  certain  sting  in  her  voice. 
"  I  know  it's  all  right  in  England — some  of  us  use  it 
here.  But  it — every  time  you  or  anyone  says  it  I  feel 
as  if  someone  had  thrust  a  horrid-smelling  rag  under 
my  nose.  You  don't  mind  my  saying  so,  do  you,  dear?  v 

"  Beg  pardon,"  he  said.  "  We  do  use  rowdy  words 
nowadays.  I'm  so  accustomed  to  it  I  don't  notice." 

Just  then  up  to  his  ears  from  the  promenade  and  the 
crowd  gaping  at  the  "  new  chimpanzees "  came  a 
voice :  "  They're  fighting — look !  look !  Hasn't  he  got 
an  ugly  scowl?  And  she's  almost  crying." 

He  flushed  scarlet  and  sent  a  glowering  glance  down 
into  the  crowd.  He  turned  upon  Catherine :  "  Just 
hear  that!  They  think  I'm  rowing  you.  By — beg 
pardcn,  but — well — I  sha'n't  endure  it  another  in- 

[71] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

stant."  And  he  rose,  brushed  past  Catherine's  mother 
and  Longview,  Honoria  and  two  men  hanging  over 
her,  and  stalked  along  the  aisle  down  into  and  through 
the  recognising  crowd,  and  out  of  the  Garden. 

The  boxes  ate  greedily  of  this  sensation,  and  the 
crowd  in  the  promenade  scrambled  frantically  for  the 
crumbs.  It  was  presently  noised  round  that  the  Eng 
lishman  had  become  angered,  had  struck  someone. 
Rumour  at  first  said  it  was  Catherine ;  but  the  crowd  by 
the  use  of  its  legs  and  eyes,  and  the  boxes  by  the  use 
of  their  glasses,  learned  that  this  was  false.  There  sat 
Catherine,  calm,  absorbed  in  the  ring,  applauding  the 
jumpers,  and  turning  now  and  then  to  her  compan 
ions  with  outbursts  of  ladylike  enthusiasm  for  some 
particularly  clever  performance.  However,  crowd  and 
boxes  saw  that  the  Englishman  was  gone,  felt  that  he 
must  have  gone  in  anger. 

The  Longview  party  stopped  at  the  Waldorf  for 
supper,  and  Frothingham,  calmer  and  a  little  embar 
rassed,  joined  them.  Catherine  received  him  as  if 
nothing  had  taken  place,  and  the  next  night  they  ap 
peared  together  at  the  Garden  as  usual. 

Late  in  the  evening  she  said  to  him :  "  I've  told 
mother  of  our  engagement.  Do  you  mind,  dear?  " 

[72] 


CHAPTER    FIVE 

His  face  lighted  up. 

"  She  wishes  you  to  come  down  to  the  country  with 
us  on  Sunday  to  stay  a  week  or  two.  It  is  beautiful 
there,  and  we  shall  be  very  quiet.  Shall  you  like 
that?  " 

"  And  I  may  speak  to  your  father  ?  "  he  asked.  "  In 
my  country  it  wouldn't  be  regarded  as  honourable  for 
me  to  act  as  I've  been  acting  with  you.  I  can't  help 
feeling  uncomfortable  because  I've  said  nothing  to 
your  father." 

"  I'll  speak  to  him  first,  Arthur.  He  lets  me  do  as  I 
please.  And  he'll  be  contented  with  whatever  makes 
me  happy.  He's  such  a  dear !  " 

Frothingham  looked  faintly  annoyed.  It  was  not 
in  his  plan  to  include  "  father  "  in  their  romance.  Ro 
mance  with  daughter,  business  with  father — that  was 
the  proper  and  discreet  distribution  of  the  prelimina 
ries  to  the  formal  engagement.  He  had,  deep  down,  a 
horrible,  nervous  fear  that  he  might  be  drawn  into 
matrimony  without  definite  settlements — the  father 
might  be  as  difficult  to  pin  down  in  his  way  as  was  the 
daughter  in  her  way.  "  I  must  take  this  business  in 
hand,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  or  I'll  be  in  a  ghastly 


mess." 


[73] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

Catherine,  her  mother,  and  he  went  down  on  the  one- 
o'clock  train.  The  Hollister  country'  place — Lake- 
in-the-Wood — was  a  great  pile  of  brick  and  stone,  im 
pressive  for  size  rather  than  for  beauty,  filled  with  ex 
pensive  furnishings  and  swarming  servants  in  showy 
livery,  and  surrounded  by  a  handsome,  well-ordered 
park,  with  winding  walks  and  drives,  and  romantically 
bridged  streams  flowing  to  and  from  a  large  lake. 
They  lived  with  more  ceremony  than  did  Surrey  at 
Heath  Hall — but  there  was  an  air  of  newness  and  stiff 
ness  and  prodigal  profusion  about  it  all,  a  suggestion 
of  a  creation  of  yesterday  that  might  find  a  grave  to 
morrow.  This  impression,  which  had  often  come  to 
him  in  the  palaces  of  New  York,  began  to  form  as  the 
porter  opened  the  huge  gates  between  the  park  and 
the  highway.  It  grew  stronger  and  stronger  as  he 
penetrated  into  the  gaudy,  if  tasteful,  establishment. 
Everything  was  too  new,  too  grand,  too  fine.  The 
daughter  alone  was  at  her  ease;  the  mother  was  not 
quite  at  her  ease;  the  father  was  distinctly,  if  self- 
mockingly,  ill  at  ease. 

The  two  women  left  Frothingham  alone  with  him, 
and  the  old  man  soon  vented  his  dissatisfaction.  "  I 
suppose  you  like  this  sort  of  thing,"  he  said,  with  a 

[74] 


CHAPTER    FIVE 

wave  of  the  arm  to  indicate  that  he  meant  the  establish 
ment.  "  But  I  don't.  If  I  had  my  way  we'd  be  simple 
and  comfortable — no,  I  don't  mean  that  exactly.  I 
suppose  at  bottom  I'm  as  big  a  fool  as  the  women. 
But,  all  the  same,  French  cooking  gives  me  indigestion. 
That  infernal  frog-eater  in  the  right  wing  has  it  in 
for  me.  He's  killing  me  by  inches.  And  I'm  so  afraid 
of  him  and  the  butler  and  all  the  rest  of  'em  that  I 
don't  kick  the  traces  more  than  once  a  week."  He 
laughed.  "  My  wife  and  daughter  have  got  me  well 
trained.  Whenever  they  tell  me  to,  I  sit  up  on  my 
hind  legs  and  *  speak '  for  crackers  and  snap  'em  off 
my  nose." 

Frothingham  liked  him  at  once — he  was  a  big, 
handsome  old  fellow,  with  keen,  steel-grey  eyes, 
and  the  strong  look  of  the  successful  man  of  affairs. 
"  I  fancy  he's  almost  one  of  those  Americans  Walling- 
ford  talked  about,"  he  thought. 

After  a  smoke  with  Hollister  he  went  to  his  rooms — 
a  suite  of  vast  chambers,  like  the  show  rooms  of  a 
palace,  with  a  marble  bathroom  that  had  a  small 
swimming  pool  sunk  in  the  middle  of  it.  He  looked 
out  upon  the  drive  and  the  park  and  the  half-hidden 
streams  glittering  in  the  sunshine.  "  These  people 

[75] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

^ 
will  beat  us  out  at  our  own  game  when  they  get  used 

to  the  cards,"  he  said. 

There  was  the  sound  of  wheels  and  horses — many 
wheels  and  many  horses.  He  looked  down  the  drive — 
one  after  another  came  into  view  a  three-seated  buck- 
board,  a  stylish  omnibus,  a  waggon  with  the  seats 
taken  out  to  make  room  for  a  huge  pile  of  luggage. 
In  the  buckboard  and  the  omnibus  he  recognised  men 
and  women  whom  he  had  met  in  New  York — the  Leigh- 
tons,  the  Spencers,  the  Farrells,  the  Howards,  Mrs. 
Carnarvon,  Wallingford,  Gresham,  Browne,  a  man 
whose  name  he  could  not  recall,  Miss  Lester,  Miss  Dev- 
enant.  "  I  thought  Catherine  and  I  were  to  be  *  very 
quiet,' "  he  muttered. 

There  were  thirty-two  people  at  dinner  that  night, 
sixteen  of  whom?  including  himself,  were  guests  in  the 
house  for  stays  of  three  days,  a  week,  ten  days.  "  You 
said  you  were  to  be  alone,"  he  said  to  Catherine,  with 
ironic  reproach. 

She  gave  him  her  pathetic,  helpless  look.  "  I  did 
hope  so.  But  I  asked  some,  and  mamma  asked  others, 
and  the  rest  asked  themselves." 

The  days  passed,  and  he  had  only  fleeting  glimpses 
of  her.  Everybody  was  hunting,  riding,  driving,  go- 

[76] 


CHAPTER    FIVE 

ing  to  luncheons,  teas,  dinners,  through  a  neighbour 
hood  ten  miles  square.  Every  moment  from  early  un 
til  late  was  more  than  occupied — it  was  crowded, 
jammed.  His  idea  of  country  life  was  the  quiet,  lazy 
ease  of  England ;  a  week  of  this  rushing  about  fagged 
him,  body  and  mind.  He  ceased  to  try  for  a  moment 
alone  with  her;  he  saw  that  it  was  hopeless  to  expect 
so  much  in  a  place  where  he  could  not  get  a  moment 
alone  with  himself. 

"  You  never  rest  in  this  country  ?  "  he  said,  address 
ing  the  men  in  the  library  at  midnight,  as  they  were 
having  a  final  nightcap. 

"  Why  should  we?  "  replied  Browne.  "  Why  antic 
ipate  the  grave's  only  pleasure  ?  " 

"  You  see,"  explained  Wallingford,  "  on  this  side 
of  the  water  we  take  our  pleasures  energetically.  When 
we  work,  we  work  hard ;  when  we  play,  we  play  hard. 
If  we're  having  a  good  time,  we  crowd  our  luck,  in  the 
hope  of  having  a  better  time.  If  we're  bored,  we 
hurry,  to  get  it  over  with." 

"  Do  you  keep  this  up  the  year  round  ?  '' 

"  Except  on  ocean  steamers.  But  we'll  close  that 
gap  when  we  get  the  '  wireless '  installed,  with  a  tele 
phone  to  the  head  of  every  berth." 

[77] 


VI 

ON  a  Monday  morning — Frothingham's  eighth 
day   at   Lake-in-the-wood — only   Wallingford 
and  the  tireless   Catherine   appeared   for  the 
early  ride.     "  It's  cold,"  said  Wallingford.     "  Shall 
we  canter?  "     And  they  swept  through  the  gates  and 
on  over  the  frost-spangled  meadows  for  several  miles 
before  they  drew  their  horses  in  to  a  walk.     Cather 
ine's  cheeks  were  glowing,   and  her  eyes  were  not 
dreamy  and  soulful,  but  bright  with  vigorous,  wide 
awake  life. 

"  I  haven't  seen  you  looking  so  well  in  years,  Kitty." 
Wallingford  was  examining  her  with  the  slightly 
mocking,  indifferent  eyes  that  had  piqued  not  a  few 
women  into  trying  to  make  him  like  them.  '  You  look 
positively  human.  And  it's  becoming — most  becom- 
ing." 

Catherine  began  to  scramble  into  her  pose.  She  did 
not  like  to  be  caught  lapsing  from  her  ideals. 

"  Why  do  you  do  it  ?  "     Wallingford  dropped  his 

[78] 


CHAPTER    SIX 

mockery  for  an  instant.  "  Your  own  individuality, 
no  matter  how  poor  you  may  think  it,  is  far  bet 
ter  than  any  you  could  possibly  invent — or  bor 


row." 


Catherine  looked  hurt.  "  Why  do  you  charge  de 
ception  against  everyone  who  lives  above  your  level?  '! 
she  asked.  "  I  hope  you're  not  going  to  be  nasty  this 
morning,  Joe.  I'm  blue." 

"  What's  the  matter  ?    Something  real,  or " 

"  Don't  tease.    This  is  real." 

"  What  is  it?  I  see  you  wish  to  be  encouraged  to 
tell  me." 

"  No — I  couldn't  tell  anyone."  Catherine's  eyes 
were  tragic.  "  It's  one  of  those  things  that  can't  be 
told,  but  must  be " 

"  Go  on.  What  is  it?  ''  Wallingford  refused  to  be 
impressed  by  tragedy.  "  I  see  you're  dying  to  tell  me. 
Why  not  get  it  over  with?  " 

"  You  are  so  sympathetic,  Joe.  You  pretend  not  to 
understand  me,  but  I  feel  that  you  always  do." 

"  You  mean  that  I  refuse  to  be  misled  by  your 
charming  little  pretences.  But  how  could  I?  Why, 
don't  I  remember  the  day,  the  very  hour,  you  went  in 
for  the  6  soulful '  ?  I  must  say,  I  never  could  see  why 

[79] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

you  took  that  up  as  your  facL-  Being  natural  is  much 
harder  to  win  out  at — few  people  are  interesting,  or 
even  endurable,  when  they're  natural." 

"  Joe,"  she  said  absently,  as  if  she  had  not  heard 
him,  "  I'm  afraid  I'm  making  a — a  dreadful — mis 
take." 

"  Well?  "  he  asked  almost  gruffly,  after  a  short 
pause. 

"  About — about — Lord  Frothingham,"  she  con 
fessed,  lowering  her  eyelids  until  her  long  lashes  shad 
owed  her  cheeks. 

"  Oh,  I  think  you'll  land  him  all  right,"  said  Wal- 
lingf ord  encouragingly.  "  He's  a  bit  gone  on  you ; 
and  then,  too,  he  needs  the  cash." 

"  Please  don't  speak  of  him  in  that  way,  Joe.  He's 
not  a  vulgar  fortune-hunter,  but  a  high,  sensitive,  no 
ble  man." 

"  Who  said  he  was  a  vulgar  fortune-hunter?  On 
the  contrary,  he's  an  honest  British  merchant,  taking 
his  title  to  market.  And  he's  been  lucky  enough  to 
find  a  good  customer." 

Catherine  ignored  this  description  of  her  knight 
and  her  romance.  "  You  know  I'm  engaged  to  him  ?  " 
she  asked. 

[80] 


CHAPTER     SIX 

"  Ever  since  the  first  time  I  saw  your  mother  look  at 
him." 

"  Yes — she  approves  it." 

"  I  should  say  she  would,"  said  Wallingford  judi 
cially.  "  She's  got  the  best  part  of  it.  She'll  have  all 
the  glory  of  having  an  earl  in  the  family,  and  she 
won't  have  to  live  with  him." 

"  I'm — afraid — I  don't  love  him  as  I  ought,"  said 
Catherine,  with  a  sigh. 

Wallingford  laughed.  "  Now,  of  what  use  Is  it  to 
talk  this  over,  Kitty,  if  you  won't  be  frank?  It  can't 
be  a  question  of  loving  him  that's  troubling  you.  Of 
course  you  don't  love  him.  You  love  his  title,  and  that 
would  prevent  you  from  loving  him  for  himself,  no 
matter  how  attractive  he  was.  But  why  bother  about 
love?  He's  giving  you  what  you  really  want." 

"  What  do  I  want?  "  She  looked  at  Wallingford 
with  sincere  appeal,  slightly  humourous,  but  earnest. 

"  I  once  thought  that  you  wanted  to  be  a  real 
woman.  But  ever  since  your  mother  took  you  abroad 
to  fill  her  own  and  your  head  with  foreign  notions  I've 
been  losing  faith.  What  do  you  want  now?  Why, 
the  trash  you're  buying." 

"  Joe,  how  can  you  think  I'd  sell  myself?  " 

[81] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

"  Why  not  ?  It's  generally  regarded  as  a  reputable 
transaction — unless  one  is  vulgar  enough  to  sell  out 
for  the  mere  necessaries  of  life.  Oh,  I'm  not  criticis 
ing  you,  Kitty.  Perhaps  I'd  sell  myself  if  I  could  get 
any  sort  of  price.  Never  having  been  tempted,  I  can't 
say  what  I'd  do." 

"  Please  don't  talk  in  that  way,  even  in  jest.  It 
isn't  true.  I  know  it  isn't  true.  And  it's  knowing  that 

that  makes  me "     She  hesitated,  then  went  on — 

"  despise  myself !  It's  of  no  use  to  lie  to  you,  Joe. 
I'm  glad  there's  somebody  I  can't  lie  to,  somebody  that 
sees  into  me  and  forces  me  to  look  at  myself  as  I  am. 
And  sometimes  I  hate  you  for  it.  Yes,  I  hate  you  for 
it  now!  "'  She  was  sitting  very  erect  upon  her  horse, 
her  head  thrown  back,  tears  of  anger  in  her  eyes. 

"  Hate?  "  He  shook  his  head  teasingly  at  her.  "  I 
envy  you.  I've  tried  every  other  emotion,  and  I'd  like 
to  try  that.  But  I  can't.  I  can't  hate  even  Frothing- 
ham.  On  the  contrary,  I  like  him.  If  you  must  have 
a  title,  you've  got  to  take  a  husband  with  it.  And  I 
must  say,  I  think  you'll  be  able  to  harness  Frothing- 
ham  down  to  a  fairly  reliable  family  horse." 

"  How  can  you  jest  so  coarsely  about  such  a  serious 
matter?  "  she  exclaimed  indignantly. 

[82] 


CHAPTER     SIX 

"  But  is  it?  What  does  it  matter  whom  you  marry, 
so  long  as  you  have  no  purpose  in  life  other  than  to 
make  a  show  and  to  induce  shallow  people  to  admire 
you  and  envy  you  for  the  things  you've  got  that  can 
be  bought  and  sold?  It's  better,  on  the  whole,  isn't 
it,  my  friend,  that  you  should  carry  out  these  pur 
poses  through  a  foreigner,  and  in  a  foreign  country, 
than  that  you  should  spoil  some  promising  American 
and  be  a  bad  influence  here?  '! 

"  You  are  cruel,  Joe.  And  I  thought  you'd  sympa 
thise  with  me,  and  help  me !  " 

There  was  a  pause,  then  he  demanded  abruptly: 
"  What  does  your  father  say?  5i 

She  flushed — partly  at  the  memory  of  the  interview 
with  her  father,  partly  through  shame  in  recollecting 
that  she  had  led  Frothingham  to  believe  she  had  not 
told  him.  "  He  said — but  why  should  I  tell  you?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure,  unless  because  you  wish 
to." 

"  Well — I  will  tell  you.  He  said  "  (she  imitated  his 
nasal  drawl)  :  "  *  If  your  ma  and  you  want  to  make  the 
deal  I'll  sign  the  papers.  I  reckon  you  know  what 
you're  about.  And  all  our  money's  for  is  to  make  us 
happy.  Buy  what  you  please — I'll  settle  for  it.' " 

[83] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

"Was  that  all?" 

Catherine  lowered  her  eyes.     "  Yes,  that  was  all  he 
said.    But  he  looked — Joe,  it  was  his  look  that  upset 


me." 


"  I  understand."  Wallingford's  voice  was  gentle 
and  sympathetic  now.  "  And  what  answer  are  you  go 
ing  to  make  to  that  look  ?  " 

"  I'd  rather  not  say,"  she  replied,  giving  him  a 
brilliant  smile.  "  Let's  canter  again.  We  must  get 
home." 

As  soon  as  she  reached  the  house  she  went  to  her 
mother's  rooms.  Mrs.  Hollister  was  finishing  her 
morning's  work  with  her  secretary.  Catherine  waited, 
impatiently  playing  with  her  riding  whip.  When  the 
secretary  left  she  said :  "  Mother,  I'm  going  to  throw 
him  over." 

Mrs.  Hollister  paused  for  an  instant  in  putting 
away  some  of  her  especially  private  papers,  then  went 
on.  Presently  she  said  tranquilly :  "  You  will  do  noth 
ing  of  the  sort." 

Catherine  quailed  before  that  tone — she  had  been 
ruled  by  her  mother  all  her  life,  had  never  been  inter 
fered  with  in  any  matter  which  her  mother  regarded  as 
unimportant,  had  never  been  permitted  to  decide  any 

[84] 


CHAPTER    SIX 

matter  which  her  mother  regarded  as  important.  And 
her  mother's  rule  was  the  most  formidable  of  all  tyr 
annies — the  tyranny  of  kindness. 

"  But,  mother,  I  should  be  wretched  with  him." 

"Why?" 

On  the  basis  of  their  method  of  thought  and  speech 
each  with  the  other,  it  was  impossible  for  her  to  erect 
"  Because  I  don't  love  him  "  into  a  plausible  objection. 
So  she  said :  "  We  have  nothing  in  common.  His  lazi 
ness  and  cynicism  irritate  me.  He  makes  me  nervous. 
He  bores  me." 

"  All  men  are  objectionable  in  one  way  or  another," 
replied  her  mother.  "  If  you  married  the  ordinary 
man  you  would  have  nothing  after  you  had  grown 
tired.  But  marrying  him,  you'll  have,  first,  last,  and 
all  the  time,  the  solid  advantages  of  your  position  and 
your  title.  And  you'll  like  him  better  when  you're 
used  to  him — he  has  admirable  qualities  for  a  hus 
band." 

"  I  can't  marry  him,"  said  Catherine  dog 
gedly.  She  knew  it  was  useless  to  argue  with  her 
mother. 

"  You  can't  refuse  to  marry  him.  It  would  be  dis 
honourable.  Your  word  is  pledged.  It  would  be  im- 

[85] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

possible  for  a  child  of  mine  to  be  guilty  of  a  dishon 
ourable  action." 

"  When  I  tell  him  how  I  feel  he  will  release  me." 

"  You  mean  he  would  refuse  to  marry  a  woman  who, 
after  treating  a  man  as  you  have  treated  him,  would 
show  herself  so  light  and  so  lacking  in  honour.  No, 
my  daughter  will  not  disgrace  herself  and  her  family." 
Mrs.  Hollister  seated  herself  beside  Catherine  and  put 
an  arm  round  her.  "  She  has  had  her  every  whim 
gratified,  and  that  has  made  her  careless  of  responsi 
bilities.  But  she  will  not  show  herself  in  serious  mat 
ters  light  and  untrustworthy." 

Catherine  stiffened  herself  against  the  gentle  yet 
masterful  force  that  seemed  to  be  stealing  in  upon  her 
from  her  mother's  embrace  and  tone. 

"  You've  come  to  one  of  those  rough  places  in  life," 
Mrs.  Hollister  went  on,  "  where  young  people  need  the 
help  of  some  older,  more  experienced  person.  And 
some  day  soon  you'll  be  glad  I  was  here  to  see  you 
safely  over  it." 

"  I  can't  marry  him,  mother." 

Mrs.  Hollister  frowned  for  a  second,  then  her  face 
cleared,  and  she  said  quietly :  "  Your  father  and  I  have 
put  you  in  a  position  to  establish  yourself  well  in  life. 

[86] 


CHAPTER    SIX 

You  have  engaged  yourself  to  an  honourable  man, 
who  has  something  to  offer  you,  who  can  assure  you  a 
position  that  will  be  a  satisfaction  to  you  all  your  life 
and  to  your  children  after  you.  I  know  I  have  not 
brought  you  up  so  badly  that  you  would  throw  away 
your  career,  would  disregard  the  interests  of  those  you 
may  bring  into  the  world,  all  for  a  mere  whim." 

Catherine  was  silent. 

"  Even  if  you  cared  for  someone  else  -  " 

"  But  I  do,"  interrupted  Catherine  impetuously. 

Mrs.  Hollister  winced  and  reflected  before  she  went 
on  :  "  It  cannot  be  a  serious  attachment,  Catherine,  or 
I  should  have  noticed  it.  Is  it  Joseph  Wallingford?  " 

Catherine  did  not  answer. 

"  Even  if  you  had  been  attracted  for  a  moment  by  a 
man  who  had  something  to  offer  besides  a  little  senti 
ment,  that  would  be  gone  a  few  brief  months  after 
marriage,  still  it  would  be  your  duty  to  yourself  and  to 
your  family  to  make  the  sensible  marriage.  You  arc 
not  a  foolish  girl.  You  are  not  a  child.  You  know 
what  the  substantial  things  in  life  are." 

"  I  can't  marry  him,"  repeated  Catherine  stub 
bornly. 

Has  Wallingford  been  making    love   to    you  ?  " 

[87] 


" 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

The  anger  was  close  to  the  surface  in  Mrs.  Hollister's 
voice. 

Catherine  smiled  bitterly.  "  No,"  she  answered, 
"  he  has  not.  He  cares  nothing  for  me.  But  I  can't 
marry  Lord  Frothingham — and  I  won't." 

"  You  must  not  say  that,  Catherine,"  said  her 
mother  sternly.  "  It  is  a  great  shock  to  me  to  find  that 
you  cannot  be  trusted.  If  you  refused  to  marry  the 
man  you  have  voluntarily  engaged  yourself  to,  I 
should  never  forgive  you." 

Catherine's  eyes  sank  before  her  mother's.  "  The 
engagement  must  be  announced  at  once,"  her  mother 
went  on.  "  You  will  change  your  mind  when  you  have 
thought  it  over,  and  when  you  realise  what  my  feelings 


are." 


"  I  can't "  began  Catherine  monotonously. 

"  I  wish  to  hear  no  more  about  it,  child,"  inter 
rupted  her  mother,  her  eyes  glittering  a  forewarning 
of  the  hate  she  would  have  for  a  daughter  who  dis 
obeyed  her.  "  To-morrow  we  will  talk  of  it 
again." 

Catherine  and  her  mother  arose,  and  each  faced  the 
other  for  a  moment — two  inflexible  wills.  For  Mrs. 
Hollister  had  made  one  error,  and  that  fatal,  in  train- 

[88] 


CHAPTER     SIX 

ing  her  daughter.  She  had  not  broken  her  will  in 
childhood,  when  the  stiffest  inherited  will  can  be  made 
to  yield;  she  had  only  subdued  it,  driven  it  to  cover. 
She  had  left  her  her  individuality.  But  she  did  not 
know  this;  so,  she  saw  her  daughter's  looks,  saw  her 
daughter  leave  the  room  with  resolution  in  every  curve 
of  her  figure,  and  was  not  in  the  least  disturbed  as  to 
the  event.  The  idea  that  she,  Maria  Hollister,  could 
be  defied  by  anyone  in  her  family — or  out  of  it — could 
not  form  in  her  mind.  "  It  is  fortunate,"  she  said  to 
herself,  "  that  Wallingford  is  leaving  early  in  the 
morning.  I'll  announce  the  engagement  at  dinner  to 
night." 

Catherine  went  to  change  her  dress,  and  then 
searched  for  Frothingham.  He  was  alone  in  the 
billiard  room,  half  asleep,  on  one  of  the  wall  lounges. 
At  sight  of  him — she  saw  him  before  he  saw  her — 
her  courage  wavered.  Yes,  he  was  a  decent  sort  of 
chap;  and  she  was  treating  him  badly,  despicably — 
had  bargained  fairly  with  him,  had  used  the  contract 
publicly  to  aggrandise  herself  at  his  expense,  was 
about  to  break  her  contract  and  humiliate  him,  injure 
him,  through  no  fault  of  his.  He  had  been  fair  with 
her,  she  had  been  false  with  him,  was  about  to  be  base. 

[89] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

"  I  can't,"  she  said  to  herself.  "  At  least,  not  in  cold 
blood." 

He  saw  her,  and  his  face  lighted  up.  She  smiled, 
nodded,  hurried  through  the  billiard  room,  and  disap 
peared  into  the  hall  beyond.  As  she  turned  its  angle 
her  knees  became  shaky  and  her  face  white.  Then 
Wallingford  suddenly  appeared  at  the  conservatory 
door.  He  came  toward  her  as  if  he  were  going  to  pass 
without  stopping.  But  he  halted. 

"Well?  "he  said. 

She  leaned  against  the  wall.  Her  throat  was  dry 
and  her  eyelids  were  trembling. 

"  What  is  it?  "  he  asked  gently. 

She  hung  her  head. 

"Don't  be  afraid  to  say  it  to  me"  he  urged. 
"  There  isn't  anything  you  couldn't  say  to  me." 

"  Do  you — do  you — do  you  care  for  me  ?  "  she  said, 
in  a  queer  little  choked,  squeaky  voice. 

He  laughed  slightly,  and  came  close  to  her  and 
looked  down  at  her.  "  You're  the  only  thing  in  all 
this  world  I  do  care  for,"  he  said.  "  Why  ?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing — don't  follow  me,"  and  she  darted 
back  toward  the  billiard  room. 

Frothingham  was  still  there,  seated  now  at  the  open 

[90] 


'Just   my   rotten    luck,"   he   muttered 


CHAPTER    SIX 

fire.     "  Ah — you !     I'm  glad  you've  come  back,"  he 
drawled. 

"  I  want  you  to  release  me  from  my  engagement," 
she  said. 

His  jaw  dropped,  and  he  stared  stupidly  at  her.  He 
could  hardly  believe  that  this  impetuous,  energetic 
creature  was  the  languorous,  affected,  dreamy  Cath 
erine. 

"  I  mean  it,"  she  sped  on.  "  I've  no  excuse  to  make 
for  myself.  But  I  can't  marry  you.  And  you  ought 
to  be  glad  you're  rid  of  me." 

Her  tone  instantly  convinced  him  that  he  was  done 
for.  He  turned  a  sickly  yellow,  and  put  his  head  be 
tween  his  hands  and  stared  into  the  fire.  His  brain 
was  in  a  whirl.  "  Just  my  rotten  luck,"  he  muttered. 

"  I  don't  hope  that  you'll  forgive  me,"  she  was  say 
ing.  "  You  couldn't  have  any  respect  for  me.  I'm 
only  saving  a  few  little  shreds  of  self-respect. 
I'm " 

"  You  mustn't  do  it,  Catherine.  You  mustn't, 
you "  he  interrupted,  rising  and  facing  her. 

"  I  must  be  free.  I  care  for  someone  else.  Don't 
discuss  it,  please.  Just  say  you  let  me  go." 

"  It  ain't  right."    Cupidity  and  vanity  were  lashing 

[91] 


CC 

u 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

his  anger  into  a  storm.    "  You  can't  go  back — you've 
gone  too  far.    Why,  we're  as  good  as  married." 

"  Don't  make  me  any  more  ashamed  than  I  am/' 
she  pleaded  humbly. 

No,  I  can't  release  you,"  he  said  with  cold  fury. 

I  can't  permit  myself  to  be  trifled  with."  He  knew 
that  he  was  taking  the  wrong  tack,  that  he  ought  to 
play  the  wounded  lover.  But  his  feeling  for  her  was 
so  small,  and  his  anger  so  great,  that  he  could  not. 

She  was  almost  hysterical.  She  felt  as  though  she 
were  struggling  desperately  against  some  awful  force 
that  was  imprisoning  her.  "  Let  me  go.  Please,  let 
me  go,"  she  gasped. 

"  No !  "  he  said,  arrogance  in  his  voice — the  arro 
gance  of  a  man  used  to  women  who  let  men  rule  them. 

Her  eyes  flashed.  "  Then  I  release  myself ! "  she 
exclaimed  haughtily,  with  a  change  of  front  so  swift 
that  it  startled  him.  "  And  don't  you  dare  ever  speak 
of  it  to  me  again !  " 

She  slowly  left  the  room,  her  head  high.  But  her 
haughtiness  subsided  as  rapidly  as  it  had  risen,  and  by 
the  time  she  reached  her  own  apartment  she  was  ready 
to  fling  herself  down  for  a  miserable  cry — and  she  did. 
"  If  I  could  only  get  him  out  of  the  house,"  she  wailed. 

[92] 


CHAPTER    SIX 

Frothingham  debated  his  situation.  "  The  thing  to 
do,"  he  concluded,  "  is  to  go  straight  off  to  her 
father."  He  had  not  yet  become  convinced  that  in 
America  man  occupies  a  position  in  the  family  radi 
cally  different  from  his  position  in  England.  He 
found  Hollister  writing  in  his  study. 

"  Mr.  Hollister,"  he  began. 

Hollister  raised  his  head  until  it  was  tilted  so  far 
back  that  he  could  see  Frothingham  through  the 
glasses  that  were  pinching  in  the  extreme  end  of  his 
long  nose.  "  Oh — Lord  Frothingham — yes !  "  He 
laid  down  his  pen.  "  What  can  I  do  for  you?  ': 

Frothingham  seated  himself  in  a  solemn  dignity 
that  hid  his  nervousness.  "  For  several  weeks  your 
daughter  and  I  have  been  engaged.  We — we " 

Hollister  smiled  good-humouredly.  "  Before  you 
go  any  further,  my  boy,"  he  interrupted  kindly,  "  I 
warn  you  that  you're  barking  up  the  wrong  tree." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Frothingham  stiffly. 

"  The  person  you  want  to  see  is  the  girl's  mother. 
She  attends  to  all  that  end  of  the  business.  I've  got 
enough  trouble  to  look  after  at  my  own  end." 

"  What  I  have  to  say  can  be  said  properly  only  to 

her  father  as  the  head  of  the  family." 

[93] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

"  But  I'm  not  the  head  of  the  family.  I'm  not  sure 
that  I  know  who  is.  Sometimes  I  think  it's  my  wife, 
again  I  suspect  Catherine." 

"  Your  daughter  now  refuses  to  abide  by  her  en 
gagement,"  said  Frothingham,  in  desperation  at  this 
untimely  levity. 

Hollister  took  off  his  glasses  and  examined  them  on 
both  sides  with  great  care.  "  Well,"  he  said  at  last, 
"  I  suppose  that  settles  it." 

Frothingham  stared.  "  I  beg  pardon,  but  it  does 
not  settle  it." 

Hollister  gave  him  a  look  of  fatherly  sympathy. 
"  I  guess  it  does.  You  can't  marry  her  if  she  won't 
have  you.  And  if  she  won't  have  you — why,  she 
won't." 

"  You  treat  the  matter  lightly."  Frothingham  had 
a  bright  red  spot  in  either  cheek.  "  You  do  not  seem 
to  be  conscious  of  the  painful  position  in  which  she 
places  you." 

"  Good  Heavens,  Frothingham !  What  have  I  got 
to  do  with  it?  You  ain't  engaged  to  me.  She's 
got  the  right  to  say  what  she'll  do  with  her 
self." 

Frothingham  rose.     "  I  was  under  the  impression, 

[94] 


CHAPTER    SIX 

sir,  that  I  was  dealing  with  a  gentleman  who  would 
appreciate  the  due  of  a  gentleman." 

Hollister's  eyebrows  came  down,  and  a  cruel  line 
suddenly  appeared  at  each  corner  of  his  mouth.  Just 
then  Mrs.  Hollister  entered.  Intuitively  she  leaped  to 
the  right  conclusion.  "  The  idiot !  "  she  said  to  her 
self.  "  Why  didn't  he  come  to  me?  "  Then  she  said 
smoothly,  almost  playfully,  to  "  the  idiot  '* :  "  Has 
Catherine  been  troubling  you  with  her  mood  this  morn 
ing?" 

Frothingham's  face  brightened — her  mood !  Then 
there  was  hope. 

"  You  ought  not  to  pay  any  attention  to  her 
moods,"  Mrs.  Hollister  went  on  with  a  smile.  "  She's 
very  nervous  at  times.  But  it  passes." 

"  She  told  me  flat  that  our  engagement  was  off," 
said  Frothingham.  "  I  came  to  her  father,  naturally. 
She  seemed  to  be  in  earnest." 

Mrs.  Hollister  continued  to  smile.  "  Don't  concern 
yourself  about  the  matter,  Lord  Frothingham,"  she 
replied  in  her  kindliest  voice.  "  Catherine  will  be  all 
right  again  to-morrow  at  the  latest.  She  has  been  do 
ing  too  much  lately  for  a  young  girl  under  the  ex 
citement  of  an  engagement." 

[95] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

Hollister,  who  had  been  looking  hesitatingly 
from  his  wife  to  Frothingham,  went  to  the  wall  and 
pressed  an  electric  button.  When  the  servant  ap 
peared  he  said :  "  Please  ask  Miss  Catherine  to  come 
here." 

Mrs.  Hollister  turned  on  him,  her  eyes  flashing. 
"  Catherine  is  in  no  state  to  bear " 

Hollister  returned  her  look  calmly,  then  repeated  his 
order.  The  servant  looked  uneasily  from  the  husband 
to  the  wife,  saw  that  Mrs.  Hollister  was  not  going  to 
speak,  made  a  deprecating  bow,  and  withdrew.  In  a 
few  minutes — it  seemed  a  long  time  to  the  three,  wait 
ing  in  silence — Catherine  appeared.  Her  eyes  were 
swollen  slightly,  but  that  was  the  only  sign  of  pertur 
bation.  Mrs.  Hollister  said  to  Frothingham :  "I  think 
it  would  be  best  that  her  father  and  I  talk  with  her 
alone  first." 

Frothingham  instantly  rose.  With  eyes  pleadingly 
upon  Catherine  he  was  nearing  the  door  when  Hollis 
ter  spoke — it  was  in  a  voice  neither  Frothingham  nor 
even  Catherine  had  heard  from  him  or  suspected  him 
of  having  at  his  command.  "  Please  be  seated,  Lord 
Frothingham.  The  best  way  to  settle  this  business  is 
to  settle  it." 

[96] 


CHAPTER    SIX 

Frothingham  could  not  have  disobeyed  that  voice, 
and  he  saw  with  a  sinking  heart  that  at  the  sound  of 
it  Mrs.  Hollister  looked  helpless  despair. 

"  Catherine,"  said  her  father,  "  do  you,  or  do  you 
not,  wish  to  marry  Lord  Frothingham  ?  " 

"  I  won't  marry  him,"  replied  Catherine.  She  gave 
Frothingham  a  contemptuous  look.  "  I  told  him  so  a 
while  ago." 

Mrs.  Hollister's  eyes  blazed.  "  Have  you  forgotten 
what  I  said  to  you?  "  she  demanded  of  her  daughter, 
her  voice  shrill  with  fury. 

"  No,  mother,"  Catherine  answered  slowly ;  "  but — 
I  cannot  change  my  mind.  I  cannot  marry  Lord 
Frothingham." 

An  oppressive  silence  fell.  After  a  moment  Froth 
ingham  bowed  coldly,  and  left  the  room.  Mrs.  Hol 
lister  started  up  to  follow  him.  "  One  word,  Maria," 
said  her  husband.  "  I  wish  you  to  understand  that 
this  matter  is  settled.  Nothing  more  is  to  be  said 
about  it  either  to  Catherine  or  to  that  young  man — 
not  another  word." 

Mrs.  Hollister  was  white  to  the  lips.  "  I  under 
stand,"  she  replied,  with  a  blasting  look  at  her  daugh 
ter.  And  she  followed  Frothingham  to  try  to  pacify 

[97] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

him — she  knew  her  husband  too  well  not  to  know  that 
her  dream  of  a  titled  son-in-law  was  over. 

When  she  was  gone  Catherine  sank  limp  into  a 
chair.  "  She'll  never  forgive  me,"  she  exclaimed  de 
spondently. 

Hollister  nodded  in  silent  assent.  After  a  few  min 
utes  he  said :  "  It's  been  fifteen  years  since  she  made 
me  cross  her  in  a  matter  I  sha'n't  speak  of.  And  she 
remembers  it  against  me  to-day  as  if  it  had  happened 
an  hour  ago.  The  sooner  you  find  your  man,  Katie, 
and  marry  him,  the  better  off  you'll  be — that's  my  ad 
vice."  He  smiled  with  grim  humour  as  he  added, 
"  And  I  ought  to  know."  Then  he  patted  her  en 
couragingly  on  the  shoulder  with  a  hand  that  looked 
as  if  it  could  hold  the  helm  steady  through  any  tem 
pest. 


[98] 


VII 

FROTHINGHAM  had  gone  direct  to  his  apart 
ment.  "  Get  my  traps  together  at  once,"  he 
said  to  his  man — Hutt,  whose  father  had  been 
his  father's  man.  He  threw  himself  into  a  chair  in  his 
sitting-room,  and  tried  to  think,  to  plan.  But  he  was 
still  dazed  from  the  long  fall  and  the  sudden  stop. 
Presently  Hutt  touched  him. 

"  Well — well — what  is  it  ?  "  he  asked,  looking  stu 
pidly  up  at  the  round,  stupid  face. 

"  Beg  pardon,  my  lord,"  replied  the  servant,  "  but 
Hi've  spoke  to  you  twice.  Mrs.  Hollister  wishes  to 
know  hif  you'll  kindly  come  to  'er  in  'er  sitting-room." 

Frothingham  found  Mrs.  Hollister's  maid  waiting 
for  him  in  the  hall.  He  followed  her  to  the  heavily 
perfumed  surroundings  of  pale  blue  silk,  both  plain 
and  brocaded,  in  which  Mrs.  Hollister  lived.  He  lis 
tened  to  her  without  hearing  what  she  said — thinking 
of  it  afterward  he  decided  that  she  had  been  incoherent 
and  not  very  tactful,  and  that  her  chief  anxiety  had 

[99] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

been  lest  he  might  do  something  to  cause  scandal.  He 
remembered  that  when  he  had  said  he  would  go  at  once 
she  had  tried  to  persuade  him  to  stay — as  if  leaving 
were  not  the  only  possible  course.  He  gradually  re 
covered  his  self-command,  and  through  weakness, 
through  good  nature,  through  contempt  of  his  hosts, 
and  through  policy,  he  acted  upon  the  first  principle 
of  the  code  for  fortune-hunters  of  every  degree  and 
kind :  "  Be  near-sighted  to  insults,  and  far-sighted  to 
apologies." 

Surveying  the  wreck  from  his  original  lodgings  at 
the  Waldorf,  he  found  three  mitigations — first,  that 
the  engagement  had  not  been  announced ;  second,  that 
he  had  not  written  Evelyn  anything  about  it;  third, 
that  it  was  impossible  for  "  middle-class  people  "  such 
as  the  Hollisters  to  insult  him — "  if  I  wallow  with 
that  sort,  I  can't  expect  anything  else,  can  I  ?  >:  To 
cheer  himself  he  had  several  drinks  and  took  an  account 
of  stock.  He  found  he  was  ninety-three  pounds 
richer  than  when  he  landed — he  played  "  bridge  " 
well,  and  had  been  in  several  heavy  games  at  Lake-in- 
the-Wood,  and  had  been  adroit  in  noting  the  stupid 
players,  and  so  arranging  partners  that  he  could  bene 
fit  by  them ;  also  he  had  been  lucky  in  a  small  way  at 

[100] 


CHAPTER    SEVEN 

picking  the  numbers  at  Canfield's  the  few  times  he  had 
trusted  himself  to  go  there.  "  Not  so  bad,"  he  said. 
"  It's  a  long  game,  and  that  was  only  the  first  hand." 
He  hesitated  at  the  indicator,  then  instead  of  ordering 
another  drink  went  to  the  telephone  and  called  up 
Longview's  house.  It  gave  him  courage,  and  a  sense 
that  he  was  not  altogether  friendless  and  forlorn,  to 
hear  Honoria's  voice  again.  "  Shall  you  be  in  late 
this  afternoon  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Why !  I  didn't  know  you  were  in  town — or  are 
you  calling  me  from  Catherine's  ?  " 

"  Yes — I'm  in  town,"  he  replied,  and  he  felt  that 
she  must  notice  the  strain  in  his  voice. 

"  Oh ! " 

"  I'm  up  to  stay,"  he  went  on,  his  voice  improving. 

"  Oh — yes — come  at  half -past  five." 

"  Thank  you — good-by."  He  held  the  receiver  to 
his  ear  until  he  heard  her  ring  off.  "  Good  girl,  Hon- 
oria,"  he  muttered.  "  Not  like  those  beastly  cads." 
He  went  to  the  club,  lunched  with  Browne,  whom  he 
found  there,  was  beaten  by  him  at  billiards,  losing  ten 
dollars,  and  returned  to  the  hotel  to  dress. 

At  a  quarter-past  five  he  started  up  the  avenue 
afoot — a  striking  figure  in  clothes  made  in  the 

[101] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

extreme  of  the  English  fashion;  but  he  would  have 
been  striking  in  almost  any  sort  of  dress,  so  distin 
guished  was  its  pale,  rather  supercilious  face,  with 
one  of  his  keen  eyes  ambushed  behind  that  eye 
glass,  expressive  in  its  expressionlessness.  The  occu 
pants  of  every  fifth  or  sixth  carriage  in  the  fashion 
able  parade  bowed  to  him  with  a  friendliness  that  gave 
him  an  internal  self-possession  as  calm  as  the  external 
immobility  which  his  control  of  his  features  enabled 
him  always  to  present  to  the  world. 

He  told  Honoria  his  story  in  outline — "  the  surest 
way  to  win  a  woman's  friendship  is  to  show  her  that 
you  trust  her,"  he  reflected.  She  was  sympathetic  in 
a  way  that  soothed,  not  hurt,  his  vanity ;  but  she  sided 
with  Catherine.  "  I  half  suspected  her  of  being  in 
love  with  Joe,"  she  said,  "  but  I  thought  he  was  a  con 
firmed  bachelor.  He  played  all  round  you — that's  the 
truth.  I'm  going  to  say  something  rather  disagree 
able — but  I  think  it's  necessary." 

"  I  want — I  need  your  advice,"  he  replied. 

"  You've  been  relying  entirely  too  much  on  your 
title.  You've  let  yourself  be  misled  by  what  the  news 
papers  say  about  that  sort  of  thing.  You  don't  un 
derstand — I  didn't  understand  until  I'd  been  here  a 

[102] 


CHAPTER    SEVEN 

while,  and  had  got  my  point  of  view  straight.  They're 
not  so  excited  about  titles  now  as  they  used  to  be  when 
they  had  no  fashionable  society  of  their  own,  and  had 
to  look  abroad  to  gratify  their  instinct  for  social  posi 
tion.  If  you'd  come  five  years  ago " 

"  Just  my  rotten  luck,"  he  muttered. 

"  Your  title  is  a  good  thing — properly  worked.  It 
will  catch  a  woman,  especially  if  she's  not  well  forward 
*  in  the  push,'  as  they  say.  But  it  won't  hold  her. 
She's  likely  to  use  you  to  strengthen  her  social  posi 
tion,  and  then  to  drop  you,  unless  she  has  lived  in 
England,  and  has  had  her  head  turned,  and  has  be 
come — like  your  middle  classes." 

"  But  my  family  is  away  better  than  Surrey's." 

"  Your  family  counts  for  nothing  here.  New  York 
knows  nothing  and  cares  nothing  about  birth.  En 
glishmen  count  by  title  only." 

"  Then  they  ran  after  Surrey  because  he  was  a 
Duke?" 

"  Perhaps  to  a  certain  extent,"  replied  Honoria. 
"  But  I  fancy  the  principal  reason  was  that  they 
wished  to  see  what  it  was  Helen  had  paid  such  a  tall 
price  for.  If  he  had  come  here  quietly  to  marry  a 
poor  girl  there'd  have  been  no  stir." 

[103] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

"  Money — money — nothing  but  money — always 
money,"  sneered  Frothingham.  He  saw  the  twinkle 
in  Honoria's  eyes.  "  But,  I  say,"  he  protested,  "  you 
know  that  we  over  there  do  care  for  other  things, 
too." 

"  So  do  they  here,  but  what  do  they  care  for,  first 
and  most,  in  both  countries?  " 

He  smiled. 

"  It's  money  first — there  and  here,  and  the  world 
over,"  she  went  on  with  bitterness  under  her  raillery. 
"  And  among  our  kind  of  people  everything  else — 
sentiment,  art,  good  taste  even — is  far  behind  it.  How 
could  it  be  otherwise?  We've  got  to  have  money — 
lots  of  money — or  we  can't  have  the  things  we  most 
crave — luxury,  deference,  show.  But — where  are  you 
dining  to-night  ?  " 

"  Probably  at  the  club." 

"  Excuse  me  a  minute.  I'll  just  see  if  Mrs.  Galloway 
will  let  me  bring  you.  We're  going  to  the  opera 
afterward."  She  looked  at  him  quizzically.  "  I 
think  I'll  arrange  to  ship  you  off  to  Boston.  A  little 
vacation  just  now  will  do  you  no  harm.  And — Boston 
might  interest  you." 

When  she  returned  from  the  telephone  it  was  with 

[104] 


CHAPTER    SEVEN 

a  cordial  invitation  for  him  from  Mrs.  Galloway.  He 
said :  "  I've  a  letter  to  a  Mrs.  Saalfield  in  Boston.  Do 
you  know  her?  ': 

"  Yes — she's  here  now,  I  think.  But  you  would 
better  keep  away  from  her.  She  wouldn't  do  you  the 
least  good." 

"  Is  she  out  of  '  the  push  '?  " 

"  Oh,  no — she  leads  it  there,  I  believe.  But  she 
wouldn't  let  you  look  at  a  girl  or  a  widow,  or  any 
woman  but  herself.  She's  about  forty  years  old — it 
used  to  be  the  woman  of  thirty,  but  it's  the  woman  of 
forty  now.  Everywhere  she  goes  she  trails  a  train  of 
young  men.  They're  afraid  to  look  away  from  her. 
They  watch  her  like  a  pack  of  hungry  collies,  and 
she  watches  them  like  a  hen-hawk." 

There  was  more  than  the  spirit  of  friendly  helpful 
ness  in  Honoria's  plan  to  send  him  away  to  Boston. 
The  bottom  fact — hidden  even  from  herself — was  that 
she  was  tired  of  him.  He  seemed  to  her  helpless  and 
incapable,  worse  in  that  respect  than  any  but  the  very 
poorest  specimens  of  men  she  had  met  in  New  York. 
She  felt  that  he  was  looking  to  her  to  see  him  through 
an  adventure  of  which  she  disapproved  rather  than 
approved.  She  had  no  intention  of  accepting  such  a 

[105] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

burden,  yet  she  was  too  good-natured  and  liked  him 
too  well  to  turn  him  abruptly  adrift. 

Mrs.  Galloway  took  him  in  to  dinner,  and  it  was  not 
until  the  second  act  of  the  opera  that  he  had  a  chance 
to  talk  with  the  Boston  woman  in  the  party — Mrs. 
Staunton.  Then  he  slipped  into  the  chair  behind  her ; 
but  she  would  not  talk  while  the  curtain  was  up. 
Grand  opera  bored  him,  so  he  passed  the  time  in  gaz 
ing  round  the  grand-tier  boxes — the  Galloway  box 
was  to  the  left  of  the  centre.  The  twilight  was  not 
dark  enough  to  hide  the  part  of  the  show  that  inter 
ested  him.  He  knew  New  York  fashionable  society 
well  now,  and  as  he  looked  he  noted  each  woman  and 
recalled  how  many  millions  she  represented.  "  Gad, 
how  rich  they  are — these  beggars,"  he  thought  envi 
ously.  And  he  was  seized  by  a  mild  attack  of  what  an 
eminent  New  York  lawyer  describes  as  "  the  fury  of 
the  parasite  " — that  hate  which  succeeds  contempt  in 
the  parasite  as  its  intended  victim  eludes  it. 

When  the  curtain  went  down  on  the  last  of  seven 
uproarious  calls — the  opera  was  "  Carmen,"  and  Calve 
was  singing  it — Mrs.  Staunton's  disdainful  expres 
sion  gave  him  the  courage  to  say :  "  Ghastly  row  they 

make,  eh?  J! 

[106] 


CHAPTER    SEVEN 

Mrs.  Staunton  was  perhaps  fifty  years  old,  long  and 
thin,  with  a  severe  profile  and  a  sweet  and  intelligent, 
if  somewhat  too  complacent,  front  face.  "  Calve 
sings  rather  well — in  spots,"  she  said.  "  But  I  doubt 
if  Boston  would  have  given  her  seven  calls." 

The  mirthful  shine  of  Frothingham's  right  eye 
might  have  been  a  reflection  from  his  glass ;  again,  it 
might  have  been  really  in  his  eye  where  it  seemed  to  be 
— Mrs.  Staunton  was  so  seated  that  she  could  not  see 
him  as  he  talked  over  her  shoulder  into  her  ear. 
"  Really,"  was  all  he  said. 

"  You've  not  been  at  Boston?  "  asked  Mrs.  Staun 
ton. 

"  Not  yet.  I  thought  it  would  be  well  to  get  ac 
climated,  as  it  were,  before  I  ventured  away  from  New 
York." 

"  You  will  have  it  to  do  over  again,"  said  Mrs. 
Staunton.  "  We  are  very  different.  Here  money  is 
king  and  god,  and "  Mrs.  Staunton  cast  a  super 
cilious  glance  round  the  brilliant  and  beautiful,  and 
even  dazzling,  grand  tier.  "  You  see  the  result. 
Really,  New  York  is  becoming  intolerably  vulgar.  I 
come  here  rarely,  and  leave  as  soon  as  I  decently  can. 
But  one  can't  stay  here  even  for  a  few  days  without 

[107] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

being  corrupted.  The  very  language  is  corrupt  here, 
and  among  those  who  call  themselves  the  best  people." 

"  Really !     Really,  now !  "  said  Frothingham. 

"  Indeed,  yes.  In  Boston  even  the  lower  classes 
speak  English." 

"  You  don't  say."  Frothingham's  drawl  was  calm ; 
he  put  upon  his  eyeglass  the  burden  of  looking 
astonished  interest. 

"  It  must  fret  your  nerves  to  listen  to  the  speech 
here,"  continued  Mrs.  Staunton.  "  It's  a  dialect  as 
harsh  and  vulgar — as  most  of  the  voices." 

"  It  will  be  a  great  pleasure  to  hear  the  language 
spoken  as  it  is  at  home — though  I  can't  say  that  I 
mind  it  here.  Yes — I  shall  be  glad  to  see  Boston." 

Mrs.  Staunton  lifted  her  eyebrows  and  looked 
politely  amused.  "  But  we  don't  speak  as  you  speak 
in  England.  I  didn't  say  that." 

"  Oh — I  thought  you  were  by  way  of  saying  they 
spoke  English  at  Boston." 

"  So  I  did.  I  meant  that  we  speak  correctly.  You 
English  speak  very  incorrectly.  Your  upper  class  is 
even  more  slovenly  in  that  respect  than  your  middle 
class." 

Frothingham  looked  interest  and  inquiry.  "  Ah — 

[108] 


CHAPTER    SEVEN 

yes — quite  so,"  he  said.  "  I  believe  we  do  let  our 
middle  class  look  after  all  that  sort  of  thing.  It  saves 
us  a  lot  of  bother." 

"  I'm  glad  you  admit  the  truth."  Mrs.  Staunton 
looked  gracious  and  triumphant.  "  Last  winter  we 
had  the  president  of  one  of  the  colleges  at  Oxford 
with  us — a  very  narrow  man." 

"  Frightful  persons,  all  that  sort,  /  think,"  said 
Frothingham. 

"  I'm  not  astonished  that  you  think  so,"  replied 
Mrs.  Staunton.  "  He — it  was  Mr.  Stebbins — scoffed 
at  the  idea  that  Boston  spoke  English.  He  insisted 
that  whatever  your  upper  class  speaks  is  English, 
that  they  have  the  right  to  determine  the  lan 
guage." 

That  was  Frothingham's  own  notion,  but  he  gave 
no  sign.  "  Stebbins  is  a  hideous  old  jabberwock,"  he 
said,  glad  that  the  orchestra  was  beginning. 

He  had  accidently,  but  naturally,  stumbled  into  the 
road  to  Mrs.  Staunton's  good  graces.  She  wanted  ac 
quiescent  listeners  only;  he  disliked  talking  and  ab 
horred  argument.  She  was  living  at  the  Waldorf 
also,  and  this  gave  him  his  opportunity.  She  found 
him  most  agreeable.  He  had  the  great  advantage  of 

[109] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

being  free  all  day,  while  her  New  York  men  friends 
were  at  work  then — and  she  did  not  like  women.  She 
insisted  it  was  only  the  New  York  woman — "  so 
trivial,  so  childish  in  her  tastes  for  show  and  for  far 
cical  amusements  " — that  she  did  not  like ;  but  the  fact 
was  that  she  did  not  like  any  women  anywhere.  Nom 
inally,  she  was  in  New  York  to  visit  her  sister,  Mrs. 
Findlay,  but  she  rarely  saw  her.  "  I  can't  endure 
staying  in  Henrietta's  house,"  she  explained  to  Froth- 
ingham.  "  She  has  fallen  from  grace.  If  anything, 
she  out-Herods  the  New  York  women — always  the  way 
with  renegades.  And  she  lets  her  housekeeper  and  her 
butler  run  her  household — dust  everywhere,  things  go 
ing  to  ruin,  the  servants  often  drunk.  If  I  were  in 
the  house  I  could  not  be  silent;  so  I  stay  at  a  hotel 
when  I  make  my  annual  visit  to  her." 

She  invited  Frothingham  to  come  to  her  at  Boston 
in  the  second  week  in  January — and  he  accepted.  She 
had  said  never  a  word  to  him  about  her  niece,  Cecilia 
Allerton,  and  for  that  very  reason  he  knew  that  she 
was  revolving  some  plan  for  bringing  them  together. 
He  also  knew  that  Cecilia  Allerton's  father,  head  of 
the  great  Boston  banking  house  of  Allerton  Brothers 
&  Monson,  was  rich  enough  to  give  his  daughter  the 

[110] 


CHAPTER    SEVEN 

dower  necessary  to  admission  into  the  Gordon-Beau- 
vais  family. 

In  the  two  weeks  between  Mrs.  Staunton's  departure 
and  his  engagement  to  follow  her  he  did  not  neglect 
his  business.  But  his  assiduity  was  wasted.  He  saw 
chances  to  marry,  and  marry  well — but  no  dowers 
worth  his  while.  Many  mothers  beamed  on  him,  and 
their  daughters  brightened  at  his  approach;  but  not 
one  of  the  families  that  might  have  had  him  for  the 
faintest  hinting  showed  any  matrimonial  interest  in 
him.  One  mother,  Mrs.  Brandon,  actually  snubbed 
him  as  if  he  were  a  mere  vulgar,  poor,  and  untitled 
fortune-hunter — and  the  snub  was  unprovoked,  as  he 
was  only  courteous  to  Miss  Brandon.  When  Froth- 
ingham  laughed  over  this  incident  to  Honoria  she  said : 
"  Mrs.  Brandon  purposes  to  marry  Estelle  to  Walter 
Summit." 

"  That  chuckle-head?  Why,  I  found  him  in  the 
cloak-room  at  the  Merivale  dance  the  other  night  sit 
ting  with  his  big  damp  hands  in  his  lap,  and  his  mouth 
hanging  open.  And  he  wasn't  screwed,  either." 

"  But  Estelle  isn't  marrying  him.  She's  marrying 
his  forty  millions.  With  what  she'll  inherit  from  her 
father  and  her  uncle  that  will  make  her  the  third  rich- 

[in] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

est  woman  in  New  York.  The  fact  that  Walter  is 
slightly  imbecile  is  rather  in  his  favour — she'll  have  a 
free  hand,  and  that's  everything  where  a  woman's  am 
bitious.  If  you  Englishmen  hadn't  the  reputation  of 
being  masterful  in  your  own  households  you'd  have 
less  difficulty  in  marrying  here.  It  was  a  bad  day  for 
English  marriages  when  the  American  woman  learned 
that  England  is  a  man's  country.  A  girl  brought  up 
as  are  the  girls  here  nowadays  hates  to  abdicate — and 
she  don't  have  to  if  she  marries  an  American." 

"  I've  heard  that  all  women  like  a  master,"  sug 
gested  Frothingham. 

"  So  do  men.  Everyone  likes  to  bow  to  real  supe 
riority  and  serve  it,  when  he  or  she  finds  it.  But  the 
difficulty  comes  in  trying  to  convince  a  man  or  a  wo 
man  that  he  or  she  has  met  a  superior." 

"  Well,  then — perhaps  women  are  more  easily  con 
vinced  than  men." 

Honoria  smiled  satirically.  "  They  seem  to  be," 
she  replied,  "  because  they  are  prudent.  But  if  some 
husbands  only  knew  what  their  wives  really  thought, 
they  might  be  less  easy  in  their  vanity  than  they  are." 

"  That  ain't  true  of  our  English  women,"  said 
Frothingham. 


CHAPTER    SEVEN 

"  No — and  why  ?  Because,  milord,  they  don't 
think." 

"  Well — my  wife  can  do  as  she  jolly  well  pleases  if 
she'll  only  let  me  alone." 

"  If  she's  an  American  you  may  be  sure  she  will  do 
as  she  jolly  well  pleases — and  you  may  also  be  sure 
that  it  won't  please  you  to  be  jolly  as  she  does  it." 

Just  then  a  servant  came  in  to  say  that  Catherine 
was  at  the  door  in  her  carriage,  and  wished  to  know 
whether  Honoria  was  at  home.  Honoria  looked  at 
Frothingham  inquiringly. 

"  As  you  please,"  said  Frothingham,  settling  his 
eyeglass  firmly,  and  clearing  his  face  of  expression. 

Honoria  left  him  in  the  large  drawing  room,  and 
waited  for  Catherine  in  the  adjoining  smaller  room. 
"  Lord  Frothingham  is  here,"  she  said  in  an  under 
tone,  after  they  had  kissed  each  the  other. 

Catherine  paled  and  her  eyes  shifted.  "  Does  he 
know  I'm  here  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Honoria,  "  but  you  needn't  see  him 
if  you  don't  wish." 

Catherine  reflected.  "  I'm  certain  to  meet  him 
again  some  time,  ain't  I,  dear  ?  "  she  said.  "  And  it 
might  be  more  awkward  than  this." 

[113] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

She  advanced  boldly  with  Honoria  and  put  out  her 
hand  to  him,  her  face  flushing,  and  a  delightful  plead 
ing  look  in  her  eyes.  "  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you  again. 
Lord  Frothingham,"  she  said. 

"  Ah — thank  you — a  great  pleasure  to  me  also,  I'm 
sure,"  he  answered  in  his  most  expressionless  tone. 
"  Are  you  staying  in  town  ?  ': 

"  We  came  up  yesterday — to  stay.  Won't  you 
come  to  see  us?  Are  you  at  the  Waldorf?  I  do  hope 
we  can  get  you  for  a  dinner  mamma's  arranging  for 
the  latter  part  of  next  week." 

"  Very  good  of  you.     But  I'm  just  off  to  Boston." 

He  shook  hands  with  her,  then  with  Honoria.  At 
the  door  he  turned,  and  a  faint  smile  showed  in  his  eye 
glass  and  at  the  corners  of  his  mouth.  "  Oh,  I  almost 
forgot — give  my  regards  to  Wallingford — when  you 
see  him — won't  you?  " 

Catherine  looked  gratefully  at  him.  "  Thank  you 
— thank  you,"  she  said.  "  I  know  he'll  be  glad  of  a 
friendly  message  from  you.  He's  very  fond  of  you." 

"  Really  ?  "  drawled  Frothingham.  "  That's  charm 
ing  !  "  He  smiled  with  good-natured  raillery.  "  He 
had  such  a  quaint  way  of  showing  it  that  I  wasn't 

quite  certain." 

[114] 


CHAPTER    SEVEN 

When  he  had  bowed  and  dropped  the  heavy  portiere 
behind  him  Catherine  went  to  the  window.  She  stood 
there  until  she  had  seen  him  enter  his  hansom  and 
drive  away. 

"  How  beautifully  he  dresses,"  she  said  absently  to 
Honoria.  "  And  what  distinguished  manners  he  has 
— as  if  he'd  been  used  to  being  a  gentleman  for  ages 
and  ages." 

She  seated  herself  near  the  fire — the  tea-table  was 
between  her  and  Honoria.  "  You  didn't  know  that  we 
were  engaged,  did  you  ?  "  she  went  on,  looking  dream 
ily  into  the  fire. 

"  Were  you  ?  "  said  Honoria — she  never  betrayed 
confidences. 

"  Yes.    But  I  broke  it  off." 

"Why?" 

"  I  think,"  Catherine  answered  slowly,  "  I  think 
perhaps  it  was  because  I  didn't  feel  at  home  with  him 
— and  I  do  with — Joe.  He  knows  how  to  manage  me." 

"  Joe?  Why,  you  used  to  act  as  if  you  disliked 
him." 

"  So  did  I— think  so."  Catherine  sighed.  "  I 
wish,"  she  said  after  a  moment,  "  that  Joe  had  Beau- 
vais  House  and — the  title." 

[115] 


VIII 

A'  half-past  four  o'clock  in  a  raw  January 
afternoon  Frothingham  descended  from  a 
Pullman  fiery  furnace  to  adventure  upon  Bos 
ton.  As  he  drove  to  Mrs.  Staunton's  the  rain  sifted 
through  the  cracks  round  the  windows  and  doors  of 
the  musty  cab,  and  was  deposited  upon  his  face  in  a 
greasy  coating  by  currents  of  the  iciest  air  he  had  felt 
since  he  was  last  in  Scotland.  It  was  air  that  seemed 
to  mangle  as  it  bit,  that  sent  the  chilled  blood  cower 
ing  to  the  depths  of  the  body  instead  of  bringing  it 
to  the  surface  in  healthful  reaction. 

"  Loathsome ! "  he  muttered  as  he  looked  out  on 
either  side.  "  Looks  something  like  London — no, 
Liverpool.  The  people  look  English,  too."  A  big, 
dingy  street  car  with  bell  wildly  clanging  darted  from 
a  narrow  side  street  into  the  narrow  main  street  which 
the  cab  was  following.  There  was  a  bare  escape  from 
a  disastrous  collision.  "  It's  America,  right  enough, 

he  said. 

[116] 


99 


CHAPTER    EIGHT 

The  rain  was  whirling  in  the  savage  wind,  umbrel 
las  were  tossing  and  twisting,  impeding  without  in  the 
least  sheltering  the  sullen  throngs  on  the  sidewalks. 
Everything  looked  wet,  and  sticky,  and  chilly,  and 
forbidding.  "  They  certainly  are  English,"  he  said  as 
he  noted  the  passing  faces ;  and  he  did  not  like  it.  In 
New  York  he  had  been  amused  by  the  variety — speci 
mens  of  all  nationalities,  often  several  nationalities 
struggling  for  expression  in  the  same  face.  Here  the 
sameness  was  tiresome  to  him,  and  he  missed  the  alert 
look  of  New  Yorkers  of  all  kinds. 

He  began  to  feel  somewhat  better,  however,  when 
he  reached  the  wide  front  hall  of  Mrs.  Staunton's  big, 
old-fashioned,  comfortable  house  on  the  water  side  of 
Beacon  Street.  And  he  felt  still  better  when  the  but 
ler  showed  him  to  the  room  he  was  to  occupy — the 
furniture  and  hangings,  the  woodwork  and  wall  paper, 
sombre  yet  homelike  in  the  light  and  warmth  of  an 
open  fire.  At  half-past  five  he  entered  the  drawing 
room  in  fairly  good  humour  now  that  he  and  Hutt 
were  established  arid  safe  from  the  weather.  He  joined 
Mrs.  Staunton  and  her  daughter-in-law  at  the  fire, 
where  they  were  cosily  ensconced  with  a  tea-table  be 
tween  them. 

[117] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

"  You  must  have  a  cheerful  impression  of  Boston," 
said  young  Mrs.  Staunton,  called  Mrs.  Ridgie — her 
husband's  name  was  Ridgeway. 

"  That  wind  was  a  bit  nasty,"  admitted  Frothing- 
ham.  "  But  I've  forgiven  and  forgotten  it.  I  always 
spill  my  troubles  as  soon  as  ever  I  can." 

"  You'll  detest  Boston  after  New  York,"  continued 
Mrs.  Ridgie.  "  I've  lived  here  ten  years.  It's — it's 
a  hole." 

Her  mother-in-law's  expression  was  not  pleasant, 
and  Frothingham  saw  at  a  glance  that  they  disliked 
each  the  other.  "  Virginia  is  from  New  York,"  she 
said  to  him  apologetically.  "  She  determined  in  ad 
vance  not  to  like  us,  and  she  does  not  change  her  mind 
easily." 

"  Us."  Virginia  smiled  mockingly.  "  Mother 
here,"  she  said  to  Frothingham,  "  was  born  at  a  place 
a  few  miles  away — Salem,  where  they  burned 
witches " 

"  Hanged  witches — none  was  burned,"  interrupted 
Mrs.  Staunton. 

"  Thank  you,  dear — hanged  witches.  At  any  rate 
she  was  born  at  Salem.  And  her  people  removed  to 
this  very  house  more  than  forty  years  ago.  The  other 

[118] 


CHAPTER    EIGHT 

day  I  was  talking  to  old  Judge  Arkwright,  and  spoke 
of  my  mother-in-law  as  a  Bostonian.  '  But,'  said  he, 
*  she's  not  a  Bostonian.  She's  of  Salem  town.'  Think 
of  it,  Lord  Frothingham !  She's  lived  here  nearly 
half  a  century,  and  she  married  a  man  whose  family 
has  lived  here  two  hundred  years.  And  they  still  speak 
and  think  of  her  as  a  stranger.  That's  Boston." 

"  It  reminds  me  of  home,"  said  Frothingham. 
"  Very  different,  from  New  York,  isn't  it  ?  I  asked 
the  woman  I  took  in  to  dinner  the  other  night  where 
her  parents  came  from.  '  Good  Lord,  don't  ask  me!  ' 
she  said.  *  All  I  know  about  it  is  that  they  came  in  a 
hurry  and  never  went  back.' ; 

"  How  sensible ! "  said  Mrs.  Ridgie,  the  more  en 
thusiastically  for  her  mother-in-law's  look  of  disgust. 
"  You'll  notice  that  people  on  this  side  never  talk  of 
their  ancestors  unless  there's  something  wrong  some 
where  with  themselves." 

Mrs.  Staunton  restrained  herself.  "  You'll  give 
Lord  Frothingham  a  very  false  idea  of  this  country, 
Virgie,"  she  said  with  softness  in  her  voice  and  irrita 
tion  in  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  he's  certain  to  get  that  anyhow.  He'll  only 
see  one  kind  of  people  while  he's  here,  and  though  they 

[119] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

think  they're  the  whole  show  they  don't  amount  to 
that."  At  "  that "  she  snapped  her  fingers  so  loudly 
and  suddenly  that  both  Mrs.  Staunton  and  Frothing- 
ham  started.  "  If  you  came  really  to  know  this  coun 
try,"  she  went  on,  "  you'd  find  out  that  just  as  soon  as- 
people  here  begin  to  pose  as  6  our  best  people,'  '  our 
best  society,'  and  all  that  rot,  they  begin  to  amount  to 
nothing.  They're  has-beens,  or  on  the  way  to  it.  We 
don't  stand  still  here — not  even  in  Boston.  We're  al 
ways  going  up  or  coming  down." 

After  a  silence  Mrs.  Staunton  ventured  to  say,  "  I 
think  you'll  find,  Lord  Frothingham,  that  the  tone  of 
Boston  is,  as  I  told  you,  far  higher  than  New  York's." 

"  Really !  "  Frothingham  looked  slightly  alarmed. 
"  That's  bad  news,"  he  said.  "  I  don't  go  in  for  a 
very  high  tone,  you  know.  I'm  keyed  rather  low,  I 
should  say." 

"  You  needn't  be  frightened,"  said  Mrs.  Ridgie. 
"  They  beat  the  air  a  good  deal  here.  But,  if  you'll 
be  patient  and  not  encourage  'em,  they'll  soon  get 
down  to  the  good  old  business  of  ravelling  reputations. 
At  that  they're  far  superior  to  New  York." 

Mrs.  Staunton  looked  vigorous  dissent,  but  said 
nothing.  They  listened  for  a  few  minutes  to  the 

[120] 


CHAPTER    EIGHT 

drowsy  crackling  of  the  wood  fire,  and  to  the  futile 
beat  of  the  storm  against  the  windows.  Then  Mrs. 
Ridgie  rose.  "  I'll  see  you  at  dinner,"  she  said  to 
Frothingham.  "  I'll  forgive  you  for  being  so  cross  to 
me,  belle-mere,"  she  said  to  Mrs.  Staunton,  patting 
her  on  the  cheek.  Then  her  pretty  little  figure  and 
pretty,  pert  face  vanished.  Mrs.  Staunton  frowned  at 
the  place  where  she  had  been — she  disliked  Virgie's 
hoydenish  movements  almost  as  much  as  her  demon- 
strativeness ;  in  her  opinion,  "  no  thoroughly  respect 
able  woman  laughs  loudly,  uses  slang,  or  indulges  in 
public  kissing  and  embracing." 

They  were  ten  at  dinner  that  night,  and  Frothing 
ham,  seated  between  Mrs.  Staunton  and  a  middle-aged, 
stiff,  and  homely  Mrs.  Sullivan,  fought  off  depression 
by  drinking  the  champagne  steadily — "  vile  stuff,"  he 
said  to  himself,  "  and  bad  cooking,  and  a  dull  old 
woman  on  either  side.  And  what's  this  rot  they're 
talking?" 

The  conversation  was  of  a  Buddhist  priest  who  was 
making  converts  among  "  the  very  best  people."  Mrs. 
Sullivan  was  contending  that  he  was  a  fraud,  and  that 
his  teachings  were  immoral.  Mrs.  Staunton  was  de 
fending  him,  assisted  by  a  sallow,  black-whiskered, 

[121] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

long-haired  young  man  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
table — a  Mr.  Gilson. 

Frothingham  would  not  even  pretend  to  listen.  His 
look  and  his  thoughts  wandered  down  the  table  to  Ce 
cilia  Allerton. 

Her  slender  paleness  was  foiled  by  two  stout  red  and 
brown  men — Ridgeway  Staunton  and  Frank  Morti 
mer.  They  were  eating  steadily,  with  the  slow,  linger 
ing  movements  of  the  jaw  which  proclaim  the  man  or 
the  beast  that  wishes  to  get  food  into  the  mouth  rather 
than  into  the  stomach.  Between  forkfuls  they  drank 
champagne,  holding  it  in  the  mouth  and  swallowing 
deliberately.  Cecilia  was  evidently  oblivious  of  them 
and  of  the  rest  of  her  surroundings.  "  She  looks 
sickly,"  thought  Frothingham,  "  and  an  iceberg." 

She  had  a  small  head,  a  high,  narrow  forehead,  a 
long,  narrow  face — pale,  almost  gaunt.  The  expres 
sion  of  her  mouth  was  prim  to  severity.  But  her  eyes, 
large  and  brilliant  brown,  and  full  of  imagination, 
contradicted  the  coldness  of  the  rest  of  her  face,  and 
gave  her  a  look  that  was  certainly  distinction,  if  not 
beauty.  "  I  wonder  what  she's  thinking  about?  "  said 
Frothingham  to  himself.  "  Buddhism,  I  wager.  How 
English  she  looks.  But  they  all  do,  for  that  matter, 


CHAPTER    EIGHT 

except  this  long-haired  beast  opposite.  He  looks  a 
Spaniard,  or  something  else  Southern  and  dirty." 

"  Did  you  find  that  the  New  York  women  swore 
much,  Lord  Frothingham  ?  " 

He  started.  It  was  the  Puritanic-looking  Mrs.  Sul 
livan.  "  I  beg  pardon,"  he  said,  turning  his  head  so 
that  his  entrenched  eye  was  trained  upon  her. 

"  The  New  York  women,"  replied  Mrs.  Sullivan. 
"  Were  they  very  profane?  ': 

"  Ah — well — that  is Now,  what  would  you 

call  profane?  "  asked  Frothingham  in  his  driest  drawl. 
"  Damn,  and  devil,  and  that  sort?  '; 

"  I  should  call  them  profane  in  a  woman,  and  worse. 
I  should  call  them  vulgar." 

"  Really ! " 

"Shouldn't  you?" 

"  Ah,  I  don't  know.  I  don't  call  things.  What's 
the  use?  ': 

"  But  you  must  have  opinions." 

"  Lots  of  'em — lots  of  'em — a  new  set  every  day. 
It's  a  good  idea  to  look  at  everything  from  all  sorts  of 
directions,  don't  you  think?  " 

"  If  one  has  no  sense  of  responsibility.  But  I  know 
you  have.  One  of  the  characteristics  I  particularly  ad- 

[123] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

mire  in  the  English  upper  class  is  their  sense  of  re 
sponsibility.  I  think  it  splendid,  the  way  they  sup 
port  the  Church,  and  so  set  an  example  to  the  lower 
classes." 

"  I  don't  go  in  for  that  yet — I  stop  in  bed.  It's  not 
expected  of  one  until  he's  head  of  a  family.  When  I 
am,  of  course  I'll  tuck  my  book  under  my  arm  and 
toddle  away  on  Sunday  morning  to  do  my  duty.  I 
think  it's  rather  funny,  don't  you?  We  do  as  we  jolly 
please  all  week  and  then  on  Sunday,  when  there's 
nothing  naughty  going  on,  anyhow,  we  do  our  duty. 
Cleverest  thing  in  the  British  Constitution,  that !  " 

"  But  you  believe  in  your — your  church,  don't 
you  ?  " 

"  Believe?  To  be  sure.  Everyone  does,  except 
ghastly  middle-class  cranks.  Some  of  'em  go  crazy 
and  are  pious  every  day.  Others  go  crazy  and  chuck 
it  all.  They  run  to  extremes — that's  bad  form.  I 
don't  like  extremes." 

Mrs.  Sullivan  looked  at  Frothingham  suspiciously. 
His  face  was  always  serious,  but  the  eyeglass  and  the 
drawl  and  the  shadow  of  a  hint  of  irony  in  his  tone 
raised  a  doubt.  She  returned  to  her  original  question : 

"  They  tell  me  that  the  women — the  fashionable  women 

[124] 


CHAPTER    EIGHT 

— swear  a  great  deal  in  New  York  now — that  it's  the 
latest  fad." 

"  I  can't  say  that  they  ever  swore  at  me — much," 
replied  Frothingham.  "  But  then,  you  know,  I'm 
rather  meek.  It's  possible  they  might  if  I'd  baited 


.. 


A  few  of  our  women  here — those  that  hang  round 
horses  and  stables  all  the  time — have  taken  up  swear 
ing.  It  is  said  that  they  contracted  the  habit  in  New 
York  and  Newport.  But  I  doubted  it." 

"  Perhaps  it's  the  horses  that  make  'em  swear,"  sug 
gested  Frothingham.  "  Horses  are  such  stupid 
brutes." 

"  And  they  smoke — but  that's  an  old  story.  All  the 
women  smoke  in  New  York,  don't  they  ?  " 

"  I'm  not  observant.  You  see,  I  don't  see  well  un 
less  I  look  sharp." 

Mrs.  Sullivan  smiled  amiably.  "  You're  very  dis 
creet,  Lord  Frothingham.  You  don't  gossip — I  de 
test  it  myself." 

She  talked  to  the  man  at  her  left,  but  soon  turned 
to  him  with :  "  Doesn't  it  shock  you,  the  way  divorce  is 
growing  nowadays  ?  It's  almost  as  bad  in  England,  I 
understand,  as  it  is  with  us.  We're  taking  up  all  the 

[125] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

habits  of  the  common  sort  of  people.  Really,  I  try  to 
be  broad-minded,  but  I  can't  keep  up  with  the  rising 
generation.  A  young  married  woman  called  on  me  this 
afternoon — she  and  her  husband  are  of  our  best  fami 
lies.  She  told  me  she  was  engaged  to  a  young  married 
man  in  New  York.  '  But,'  said  I,  '  you're  both  mar 
ried.'  '  We're  going  to  get  our  divorces  in  the  spring,' 
she  said.  She  asked  me  not  to  say  anything  about  her 
engagement — *  for,'  said  she,  '  we  haven't  announced 
it.  I've  not  told  my  husband  yet  that  I'm  going  to 
get  a  divorce,  and  my  fiance  hasn't  told  his  wife.' 
What  do  you  think  of  that,  Lord  Frothingham?  " 

"  Devilish  enterprising,  isn't  it,  now  ?  That's  what 
we  call  a  Yankee  notion.  Do  you  think  it  '11  be  a 
go?" 

"  I've  no  doubt  of  it.  She's  extremely  energetic— 
and  conscienceless — I'd  say  brazen,  if  she  weren't  a 
lady." 

When  the  women  went  into  the  drawing  room  Ridge- 
way  Staunton  brought  to  Frothingham  a  tall,  ascetic- 
looking  man,  with  the  bald,  smooth,  bulging  temples 
and  the  sourly  curled  lips  of  habitual  bad  temper. 
"  Lord  Frothingham,  Mr.  Allerton."  They  bowed 
stiffly,  and  looked  each  at  the  other  uncertainly. 


CHAPTER    EIGHT 

"  I've  heard  much  of  you  from  my  sister-in-law, 
Mrs.  Staunton,"  said  Allerton. 

"  She's  been  very  good  to  me,"  replied  Frothing- 
ham  cordially. 

"  She's  an  admirable  woman,"  said  Allerton.  "  She 
has  been  a  mother — more  than  a  mother — to  my  little 
girl  for  years." 

"  Your  daughter  was  most  fortunate,"  replied 
Frothingham,  in  a  tone  that  was  for  him  enthusiastic. 

Allerton  began  to  talk  English  politics ;  and  Froth 
ingham,  who,  like  Englishmen  of  all  classes,  knew  his 
country's  politics  thoroughly,  was  astonished  at  the 
minuteness  and  accuracy  of  the  American's  knowledge. 
But  he  was  amazed  to  find  that  Allerton,  though  an 
aristocrat  and  a  Tory  in  the  politics  of  his  own  coun 
try,  with  narrow  and  bitter  class  views,  was  in  English 
politics  a  Liberal  of  the  radical  type — a  "  little  Eng- 
lander  "  and  a  "  Home  Ruler."  And  he  presently  dis 
covered  that  there  were  other  inconsistencies  equally 
strange.  For  example,  Allerton  was  savage  in  his  ha 
tred  of  all  social  innovations,  was  fanatical  against  the 
morals  and  manners  of  the  younger  people  in  the  lim 
ited  Boston  set  which  he  evidently  regarded  as  the 
pinnacle  and  pattern  of  the  whole  world,  yet  was  al- 

[127] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

most  a  sensualist  in  literature,  art,  and  music.  He 
sneered  at  superstition,  yet  believed  in  ghosts  and  in 
dreams.  Intolerant  with  the  acidity  of  a  bad  diges 
tion  and  a  poor  circulation,  he  would  cheerfully  have 
jailed  and  hanged  all  who  were  intolerant  of  those 
things  of  which  he  was  tolerant — and  he  thought  him 
self  tolerant  to  the  verge  of  laxness.  Finally,  he  was  a 
theoretical  democrat,  yet  had  a  reverence  for  his  own 
ancestry,  and  for  the  title  and  ancestry  of  Frothing- 
ham,  that  even  to  Frothingham  seemed  amusing  and 
contemptible. 

At  first  Frothingham  feared  lest  he  should  ex 
press  some  opinion  that  would  rouse  the  cold  and  tena 
cious  dislike  of  Allerton.  But  he  soon  saw  that,  be 
cause  of  his  title  and  descent,  he  was  regarded  by 
the  banker  as  privileged  and  exempt  from  criticism. 
Just  as  Mrs.  Staunton  and  Mrs.  Sullivan  thought 
Frothingham's  slang  even  when  it  trenched  on  pro 
fanity  not  only  tolerable  but  proper  in  him,  so  Aller 
ton  smiled  with  frosty  indulgence  upon  his  light,  and 
not  very  reverent,  criticisms  in  politics,  religion, 
morals,  and  art. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  him?  "  Mrs.  Staunton  asked 

her  brother-in-law,  when  the  men  rejoined  the  women. 

[128] 


CHAPTER    EIGHT 

"  A  fine  type  of  English  gentleman,"  replied  Aller- 
ton ;  "  manly  and  dignified,  and  his  mind  is  keen.  I 
like  him." 

"  I'm  going  to  take  him  to  Cecilia,"  said  she. 

"  I'm  sure  Cecilia  will  like  him.  I  don't  think  she's 
looking  well,  Martha." 

"  Poor  child !  You  can't  expect  a  girl  of  her  depth 
of  feeling,  her  spirituality,  to  recover  soon.  You  must 
remember,  it's  been  only  a  year  and  three  months. 
This  is  the  first  time  she's  been  out,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  I  should  not  have  believed  she  could  be  so  disobe 
dient  as  she  has  been  in  the  past  year,"  said  Allerton 
sourly.  "  The  night  of  the  opening  of  the  gallery  I 
ordered  her  to  come  down  and  help  me  receive.  I  shall 
never  forget  that  she  locked  herself  in  her  room.  It 
shows  how  the  poison  of  the  example  of  the  young  peo 
ple  nowadays  permeates." 

"  But  that  was  nearly  a  year  ago,  Edward.  Be 
careful  not  to  be  harsh  to  her.  She  inherits — your  im- 
periousness."  Mrs.  Staunton  hesitated  after  "  inher 
its,"  because  the  look  in  her  brother-in-law's  eyes  re 
minded  her  that  his  wife — her  sister — after  enduring 
for  eight  years  the  penitentiary  he  made  of  his 
home,  fled  from  him  and  refused  to  return,  and 

[129] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

lived  by  herself  in  a  cottage  at  Brookline  until  her 
death. 

After  talking  to  several  of  her  guests,  so  that  her 
action  might  not  seem  pointed,  Mrs.  Staunton  took 
Frothingham  where  Cecilia  was  listening  to  Gilson's 
animated  exposition  of  the  true,  or  Gilson,  theory  of 
portrait  painting.  A  moment  after  Frothingham  was 
introduced  Mrs.  Staunton  took  the  reluctant  Gilson 
away. 

Cecilia  looked  after  him,  a  quizzical  expression  in 
her  eyes.  "  Do  you  know  Mr.  Gilson  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  No ;  I've  only  just  met  him." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  him  ?  5! 

"  I  can't  say.    I've  barely  seen  him." 

"  But  isn't  Schopenhauer  right  where  he  says, 
'  Look  well  at  a  human  being  the  first  time  you  see 
him,  for  you  will  never  see  him  again?  ' 

"  I  should  say  Gilson  was — not  very  clean,  then. 
Who  is  he?" 

"  He  came  here  four  years  ago  from  we  don't  know 
where,  and  exhibited  a  lot  of  his  own  paintings,  most 
of  them  portraits  of  himself  in  all  sorts  of  strange  at 
titudes  and  clothes.  Everybody  ran  after  him — we 

have  a  new  craze  here  each  year,  you  know.    That  year 

[130] 


Then  you're  not  a  Buddhist  or  a  Spiritualist?' 


CHAPTER    EIGHT 

it  was  Gilson.  A  girl,  a  Miss  Manners,  married  him. 
If  it  hadn't  been  for  that,  he'd  have  been  forgotten, 
and  would  have  disappeared.  As  it  is,  we  still  have 
him  with  us.  That's  his  wife  on  the  sofa  in  the  cor 
ner." 

Frothingham  looked  toward  the  enormously  fat 
woman  disposed  there,  and  gazing  round  vaguely, 
with  a  sleepy,  comfortable,  complacent  smile.  "  How 
do  you  know  it's  a  sofa  she's  sitting  on  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Because  I  saw  it  before  she  sat  down,"  replied  Ce 
cilia.  "  Her  fad  is  a  diet  of  raw  wheat.  If  she'd  been 
where  you  could  see  her  at  the  table,  you'd  have  no 
ticed  that  she  ate  only  raw  wheat.  She's  served  spe 
cially  everywhere  since  she  got  the  idea  last  autumn. 
She  brings  her  wheat  with  her." 

"  And  what  is  your  fad  ? — you  say  everyone  has  a 
fad." 

"  Everyone  except  me."  She  smiled  pensively. 
"  I'm  too  serious  for  fads,  I  fear." 

"  Then  you're  not  a  Buddhist  or  a  Spiritualist?  " 
he  said,  with  a  feeling  of  relief. 

The  colour  flared  into  her  face.  "  Spiritualism !  " 
Her  lips  compressed,  and  seemed  even  thinner.  Her 

expression  vividly  suggested  her  father.     "  But  that 

[131] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

is  not  a  fad !  Only  the  thoughtless  and  the  ignorant 
call  it  a  fad." 

Frothingham's  face  became  blank.  "  This  is  a 
time  to  sit  tight,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  She's  looking 
at  me  as  if  I  were  a  witch  and  she  were  about  to  burn 
— no,  hang — me." 

"  It  would  be  a  dreary  world,  it  seems  to  me,"  she 
went  on,  her  voice  low,  and  a  queer  light  in  her  soften 
ing  eyes,  "  if  it  were  not  for  the  friendship  and  guid 
ance  of  those  in  the  world  beyond." 

"  Really ! "  His  tone  might  have  meant  almost 
anything  except  the  wonder  and  amusement  it  con 
cealed. 

Her  father  came  to  take  her  home.  "  We  should 
be  glad  to  see  you,  Lord  Frothingham,  at  our  house," 
he  said  graciously.  "  I  hope  you  will  let  Mrs.  Staun- 
ton  bring  you." 

"  Thank  you— I'll  ask  her  to." 

As  he  watched  Cecilia  leave  he  said  to  himself, 
"  She's  mad  as  a  hatter — or  is  it  just  Boston?  " 


IX 

BOUT  a  week  after  he  met  Lord  Frothingham 
at  Mrs.  Staunton's,  Edward  Allerton  left  his 
bank  an  hour  before  luncheon  time  and  went 
to  the  Public  Library.  His  look  as  he  entered  was  un 
doubtedly  furtive;  and  as  he  drifted  aimlessly  round 
the  reading-room,  declining  the  offers  of  assistance 
from  the  polite  and  willing  attendants,  his  manner 
was  such  that  had  he  been  a  stranger  he  would  have 
been  watched  as  a  suspicious  character.  He  took  sev 
eral  reference  books  from  the  cases,  finally  and  most 
carelessly  of  all,  a  Burke's  Peerage.  Half  concealing 
it  with  his  overcoat,  he  bore  it  to  a  table  and  seated 
himself.  He  turned  the  pages  to  where  "  Frothing 
ham  "  appeared  in  large  letters.  There  he  stopped 
and  read — at  first  nervously,  soon  with  an  attention 
that  shut  out  his  surroundings: 

Frothingham — George  Arthur  Granby  Delafere  Gordon-Beau- 
vais,  seventh  earl  of  Frothingham,  Baron  de  Beauvais,  b.  at  Beau- 
vais  House,  Surrey,  March  9,  1865,  s.  of  Herbert  Delafere  Gordon- 
Beauvais,  sixth  earl  of  F.,  and  Maria  Barstow,  2nd  dau.  of  the 

[133] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

Marquess  of  Radbourne.    Succeeded  on  the  death  of  his  father, 
Aug.  4,  1890. 

Allerton  studied  the  coat  of  arms,  which  originated, 
in  part,  in  the  tenth  century,  so  Burke  said.  He  read 
on  and  on  through  the  description  of  the  secondary 
titles  and  other  honours  of  his  sister-in-law's  guest, 
into  the  two  columns  of  small  type  which  set  forth 
the  history  of  the  Gordon-Beauvais  family — its  far 
origin,  Godfrey  de  Beauvais,  a  great  lord  in  the  time 
of  Charlemagne,  so  Burke  declared;  its  many  and 
curious  vicissitudes  of  fortune,  its  calamities  in  old 
France  through  the  encroachments  of  the  Dukes  of 
Burgundy,  which  finally  drove  it,  in  poverty,  but  with 
undiminished  pride  and  unabated  resolution  to  live 
only  by  the  sword  and  the  tax-gatherer,  to  England 
in  the  wake  of  William  the  Conqueror ;  its  restoration 
there,  and  long  and  glorious  lordship,  so  glorious  that 
it  scorned  the  titles  a  mere  Tudor,  or  Stuart,  or  Ger 
man  nobody  could  give  until  1761,  when  it  conde 
scended  to  receive  from  George  III  the  Earldom  of 
Frothingham.  There  were  places  in  the  narrative  so 
weak  that  even  the  adroit  and  sympathetic  Burke 
could  not  wholly  cover  them.  But  the  Milk  Street 

banker  saw  them  not.     No  child  ever  swallowed  a  tale 

[134] 


CHAPTER    NINE 

of  gnomes  and  fairies  and  magic  vanishings  and  ap 
paritions  with  a  mind  more  set  upon  being  fooled. 
He  read  slowly  to  prolong  the  pleasing  tale.  And 
when  he  came  to  the  end  he  read  it  through  again, 
and  found  it  all  too  short. 

He  started  from  his  trance,  glanced  at  his  watch, 
noted  that  no  attendants  were  in  sight,  and  stole 
hastily  away  from  the  scene  of  his  orgie.  But  in  his 
agitation  he  was  guilty  of  the  stupidity  of  the  novice 
— he  left  the  book  on  the  reading-desk ;  he  left  it  open 
at  the  second  page  of  "  Frothingham."  An  attend 
ant  was  watching  afar  off;  as  soon  as  Allerton  had 
slipped  away  he  swooped,  full  of  idle  yet  energetic 
curiosity. 

When  he  saw  that  the  book  was  a  Burke's  Peerage 
he  was  puzzled ;  then  he  turned  back  a  page,  and  his 
eye  caught  the  name  "  Frothingham."  Like  all  Bos 
ton,  he  knew  that  the  Earl  was  in  town,  was  staying 
at  the  Mrs.  Staunton's,  "  on  the  water  side  of  Beacon 
Street."  And  like  all  Boston,  he  had  heard  the  ru 
mour  that  the  Earl  was  trying  to  marry  "  Celia " 
Allerton,  the  second  heiress  of  Boston.  Thus,  the 
sight  of  that  name  caused  a  smile  of  delight  to  irra 
diate  his  fat,  pasty  face  with  its  drapery  of  soft,  scant 

[135] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

grey  whiskers.  He  looked  round  for  someone  to  en 
able  him  to  enjoy  his  discovery  of  a  great  man's  weak 
ness  by  tattling  it.  He  saw  Gilson,  industriously 
"  loading  up  "  for  a  lecture  on  "  colour  in  Greek 
sculpture  and  architecture." 

He  hastened  to  him  and  touched  him  on  the 
shoulder.  "  Come  with  me,"  he  whispered. 

Gilson,  a  natural  gossip,  had  not  lived  four  years 
in  Boston  without  becoming  adept  in  the  local  sign 
language  of  his  species.  He  rose  and  followed  to  the 
table  whereon  was  spread  the  damning  proof  of  Aller- 
ton's  guilt. 

"  Look  at  this,"  whispered  the  attendant,  pointing 
to  the  name  "  Frothingham." 

Gilson  looked,  first  at  the  page,  then  at  the  attend 
ant.  His  expression  was  disappointment — he  cared 
not  a  rap  about  Frothingham  or  about  Burke's  genea 
logical  romances. 

"  But  who  do  you  think  was  sitting  here  ?  "  whis 
pered  the  attendant,  his  eyes  sparkling.  "  Sitting 
here,  reading  away  at  this  for  more  than  an  hour?  r 

"  Frothingham  ? "  said  Gilson,  in  the  reading- 
room  undertone.  "  Those  adventurers  are  always 
crazy  about  themselves." 

[136] 


CHAPTER    NINE 

"  No — it  was — Edward — Allerton!  '  As  he  hesi 
tated  on  the  name  the  attendant  shot  his  big  head  for 
ward;  at  the  climax  he  jerked  it  back,  regarding  the 
artist  with  delighted  eyes. 

"  You  don't  say  so ! "  exclaimed  Gilson,  and  then 
they  had  a  fit  of  silent  laughter. 

"  Don't  give  me  away,"  cautioned  the  attendant. 

By  nine  o'clock  the  next  night  there  was  not  a  mem 
ber  of  the  Beacon  Street  set,  whether  living  in  Boston 
or  in  Brookline  and  the  other  fashionable  suburbs,  who 
had  not  heard  the  news ;  and  the  mails  were  carrying  it 
to  those  at  a  distance.  And  wherever  it  was  repeated 
there  was  the  same  result — derision,  pretended  con 
tempt  of  such  vulgar  snobbishness,  expressions  of 
wonder  that  an  Allerton  had  descended  to  such  low 
trafficking.  Of  course  none  dared  tell  the  Stauntons 
and  the  Allertons  or  Frothingham.  But  Frothing- 
ham,  who  saw  everything  through  that  monocle  of  his, 
noted  the  covert  smiles  that  now  peeped  at  him,  the 
grins  and  nudgings  and  cranings  when  he  and  Cecilia 
Allerton  appeared  in  public  together. 

One  of  the  many  rules  which  Mr.  Allerton  had  or 
dained  for  the  guidance  of  his  household  in  the  lines 
he  regarded  as  befitting  the  establishment  of  a  gentle- 

[137] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

man  of  family  and  tradition  was  that  Cecilia  must  be 
at  the  half -past  seven  o'clock  breakfast  with  her 
father.  Usually  he  did  not  speak  after  his  brief, 
formal  salutation — a  "  Good-morning,  Cecilia,"  and  a 
touch  of  his  dry,  thin  lips  to  her  forehead.  But  he 
might  wish  to  speak,  and  it  would  be  a  grave  matter 
if  he  should  wish  to  speak  and  no  one  were  there  for 
him  to  speak  to.  Besides,  he  always  gave  his  orders 
at  breakfast — his  comments  on  the  shortcomings  in 
the  servants,  or  in  Cecilia's  housekeeping;  his  criti 
cisms  of  her  conduct.  These  "  breakfasts  of  justice  " 
were  not  held  often,  because  Cecilia  made  few  mis 
takes,  and  the  maids — Allerton  kept  no  men  servants 
but  a  coachman — had  been  long  in  the  family  service, 
and  had  therefore  been  long  cowed  and  trimmed  and 
squeezed  to  the  Edward  Allerton  mould  for  menials. 
But  when  a  "  breakfast  of  justice  "  was  held  it  was 
memorable. 

Toward  the  end  of  the  second  week  of  Frothing- 
ham's  Boston  sojourn  Mr.  Allerton  laid  aside  his  paper 
at  breakfast  and  looked  at  Cecilia.  Agnes,  the  second 
waitress,  who  always  attended  at  breakfast,  under 
stood  the  signal,  and  at  once  left  the  room,  closing  the 
door  behind  her.  Cecilia  gave  a  nervous  little  sigh, 

[  138] 


CHAPTER    NINE 

dropped  her  eyes,  and  put  on  the  pale,  calm  expres 
sion  behind  which  she  hid  herself  from  her  father. 

"  You  were  at  Dr.  Yarrow's  lecture  yesterday  af 
ternoon,  I  believe?  "  Allerton  began. 

Cecilia's  nerves  visibly  relaxed  as  she  noted  that 
his  voice  was  not  the  dreaded  voice  of  justice.  "  Yes, 
sir,"  she  replied. 

"  It  was  on  the  evidences  of  communication  with 
the  spirit  world,  was  it  not?  '! 

"  Yes,  sir — the  fourth  in  the  series." 

"  Who  accompanied  you  ?  " 

"  Aunt  Martha  and  Lord  Frothingham." 

There  was  a  pause,  then  Mr.  Allerton  coughed 
slightly  and  said :  "  How  do  you  like  the  young  En 
glishman,  Cecilia?  " 

Cecilia  lifted  her  eyes  in  a  frightened  glance  that 
dropped  instantly  before  her  father's  solemn,  rigid 
gaze.  "  He's — well-mannered  and  agreeable,"  she  re 
plied.  "  I  like  him  as  much  as  one  can  like  a  for 
eigner." 

"  I'm  surprised  at  your  speaking  of  him  as  a  for 
eigner.  He — in  fact,  he  seems  to  me  quite  like  one  of 
our  own  young  men,  except  that  he  lives  upon  a  higher 
plane,  and  shows  none  of  the  degeneration,  the  vul- 

[139] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

garisation,  I  may  say,  with  which  our  young  men 
have  become  infected  through  the  overindulgence  of 
their  parents  and  contact  with  New  York." 

Another  long  pause,  and  when  Allerton  spoke  there 
was  a  suggestion  of  combating  opposition  in  his 
voice.  "  I  have  been  much  impressed  with  the  young 
man.  Titles  are  very  deceptive.  As  you  know,  I 
have  no  regard  for  them,  or  for  the  system  which  pro 
duces  and  maintains  them.  But,  his  title  aside,  the 
young  man  comes  of  a  family  that  has  the  right  sort 
of  blood.  You  must  have  noticed  the  evidences 
of  it  in  his  face,  and  in  his  manners  and  char 
acter?" 

As  the  statement  was  put  interrogatively,  Cecilia 
knew  her  duty  too  well  not  to  reply.  "  He  has  a 
strongly  featured  face,"  she  said.  "  But  it  seemed  to 
me  to  indicate  rather  a  race  that  had  been  great,  but 
was  now — small." 

Allerton  frowned.  "  I  am  sure  that,  properly  es 
tablished,  he  would  have  a  distinguished  career."  He 
paused,  then  went  on  in  a  tone  Cecelia  understood  and 
paled  before :  "  It  would  be  most  satisfactory  to  me  to 
have  my  daughter  married  to  him.  I  should  regard 
it  as  satisfactory  in  every  way.  You  would  be  estab- 

[140] 


CHAPTER    NINE 

lished  in  an  honourable  and  dignified  position.  You 
would  exert  in  society  and  the  wider  world  the  influ 
ence  to  which  your  birth  and  breeding  entitle  you. 
You  would  maintain  the  traditions  of  your  family 
and  strengthen  his." 

Cecilia  shivered  several  times  as  he  was  speaking; 
but  when  she  spoke  her  low  voice  was  firm.  "  But, 
father,  you  know  my  heart  is  with  Stanley." 

Her  father  looked  steadily  at  her — the  look  she  felt 
like  a  withering  flame.  "  I  requested  you  more  than 
two  years  ago — months  before  he  died — never  to  men 
tion  his  name  to  me,  and  never  to  think  of  him  seri 
ously  again.  I  repeat,  it  would  be  gratifying  to  me 
if  you  were  to  marry  Lord  Frothingham.  When  is 
he  leaving  your  Aunt  Martha's  ?  " 

"  Next  Monday,  I  believe.  He  goes  down  to  Brook- 
line — to  Mrs.  Ridgie." 

"  You  are  invited  for  the  same  time?  * 

"  Yes." 

"  I  shall  expect  you  to  go."  Mr.  Allerton  rose.  "  I 
trust,  in  thinking  the  matter  over,  you  will  appre 
ciate  that  I  am  more  capable  to  judge  what  is  best  for 
you  than  you  are,  with  your  limited  experience  and 
the  narrow  views  of  life  and  duty  not  unnatural  in 

[141] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

youth."  He  left  the  room,  severe  and  serene,  master 
of  himself  and  of  his  household. 

The  Allertons  were  traditionally  Chinese  in  their 
beliefs  in  the  sacredness  of  the  duty  of  obedience  from 
children  to  parents,  and  the  duty  of  despotic  control 
by  parents  over  children. 

Theirs  was  one  of  the  old  houses  in  Mount  Vernon 
Street — a  traditional  New  England  home  for  a  sub 
stantial  citizen.  There  was  no  ostentation  about  them 
— the  carriage  in  which  they  drove  forth  was  delib 
erately  ancient  in  style  and  in  appointments,  looked 
modest  even  among  the  very  modest  or,  if  you  choose, 
"  badly  turned  out,"  equipages  of  the  Boston  "  aris 
tocracy."  Mr.  Allerton's  public  expenditures — on  an 
art  gallery,  in  partial  support  of  an  orchestra  and  a 
hospital,  in  subscriptions  to  colleges,  lectures,  char 
ities — were  greater  by  thirty  thousand  a  year  than  his 
private  expenditures.  Cecilia  had  few  clothes,  and, 
while  they  were  of  the  very  best,  and  were  in  good 
taste  and  style,  they  modestly  asserted  that  in  the 
Allerton  conception  of  dress  for  a  lady  conspicuous- 
ness  for  inconspicuousness  was  the  prime  requirement. 
Mrs.  Ridgie,  who  often  complained  that  she  "  hated 
to  live  in  a  town  where  the  best  people  didn't  wear 


CHAPTER    NINE 

their  best  clothes  every  day,"  called  Cecilia  a  "dowd"; 
but  that  was  unjust,  because  Cecilia  was  most  careful 
in  her  dress,  and  adapted  it  admirably  to  her  peculiar 
charms. 

If  Honoria  had  not  forewarned  Frothingham  he 
would  have  been  deceived  by  the  modesty  and  fru 
gality  of  the  Allerton  establishment.  After  New 
York,  it  seemed  to  him  most  un-American  for  people 
of  great  wealth  to  live  thus  obscurely.  But,  having 
been  pointed  by  Honoria,  he  soon  discovered  that  Al 
lerton  was  indeed  enormously  rich.  And  he  also  dis 
covered  that  he  was  favourably  inclined  to  a  titled  son- 
in-law.  But  Cecilia 

"  There's  some  mystery  about  her,"  he  reflected. 
"  She  acts  as  if  she  were  walking  in  her  sleep.  But  if 
I  could  get  her,  I'd  do  even  better  than  if  I'd  taken  a 
wife  from  among  those  nervous  New  Yorkers.  She's 
meek  and  a  stay-at-home.  She'd  not  bother  me  a  bit, 
and  she  and  Evelyn  would  hit  it  off  like  twins.  She's 
not  exactly  stupid,  but  she's  something  just  as  good. 
It  doesn't  matter  whether  one's  wife  is  stupid  or  ab 
sent-minded — the  effect's  the  same." 

But  he  walked  round  and  round  the  fence  between 
her  personality  and  the  world  in  vain.  He  found  no 

[143] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

low  place,  no  place  where  he  could  slip  under,  no  knot 
hole  or  crack  even.  They  went  down  to  Brookline  to 
gether — he  was  more  puzzled  than  ever  by  her  atti 
tude  toward  him  that  morning.  She  was  less  friendly, 
but  also  less  forbidding.  She  seemed  to  him  to  be 
awaiting  something — he  suspected  what.  He  tried  to 
muster  courage  to  put  his  destiny  to  the  touch  when  a 
chance  naturally  offered;  but  he  could  not — her  ex 
pression  was  too  strongly  suggestive  of  a  statue. 

Instead,  he  said :  "  What  do  you  think  about — 
away  off  there — wherever  it  is  ?  " 

"  Think?  "  She  smiled  peculiarly.  "  I  don't  think 
—I  feel." 

"  Feel  what?  " 

She  looked  mocking.  "  Ah — that's  my  secret.  You 
would  stay  where  I  do  if  you  could  go  there  and  it 
made  you  as  happy  as  it  makes  me." 

"  You're  mysterious,"  he  drawled.  "  I'm  a  block 
head  at  riddles  and  all  that." 

But  she  did  not  assist  him. 

Mrs.  Ridgie  herself  was  waiting  for  them  in  a 
two-seated  trap  with  a  pair  of  exceedingly  restless 
thoroughbreds.  Halfway  to  the  house  they  shied  at 
an  automobile  and  started  to  run.  She  got  them 

[144] 


CHAPTER    NINE 

under  control  after  a  struggle,  and  glanced  round  at 
Frothingham  for  approval — he  looked  calm  and  seemed 
unconscious  that  anything  disturbing  had  happened. 
"  Ridgie  told  me  not  to  take  this  pair  out,"  she  said. 
"  But  I  make  it  a  rule  never  to  obey  an  order  from  him. 
In  that  way  we  get  on  beautifully.  He  loves  to  give 
orders — and  I  never  object.  I  love  to  disobey  orders 
— and  he  never  objects." 

The  Ridgie  Stauntons  lived  in  what  seemed  to 
Frothingham  little  more  than  an  exalted  farmhouse, 
though  it  was  regarded  in  that  neighbourhood  as  a 
sinful  flaunting  of  luxury,  the  worst  of  Mrs.  Ridgie's 
many  sins  of  ostentation  and  extravagance.  These 
were  endured  because  she  was  married  to  a  Staunton, 
and  because  she  was  from  New  York,  and  therefore 
could  not  be  expected  to  know  what  was  vulgar  and 
what  well  bred.  But  Frothingham  was  more  com 
fortable  than  he  had  been  since  the  day  before  he  left 
Lake-in-the-Wood.  Mrs.  Ridgie  would  live  in  free- 
and-easy  fashion — one  could  smoke  through  all  the 
house;  there  were  drinks  and  plenty  of  good  cigars 
and  cigarettes  available  at  all  times ;  and  the  talk  was 
the  unpretentious  gossip  and  slang  of  fast  sets  every 
where — intelligent  people  intelligently  frivolous. 

[145] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

Frothingham  thought  Ridgie  Staunton  "  a  harm 
less  sort,  a  bit  loud  and  noisy,"  but  well-meaning,  and 
good  enough  except  when  he  had  his  occasional 
brief  spasmodic  fits  of  remembering  his  early 
training,  and  feeling  that  his  mode  of  life  was 
all  wrong.  He  was,  in  his  wife's  opinion,  a 
perfect  husband,  except  that  he  hung  about  so 
much. 

"  What  do  your  English  women  do  with  their  hus 
bands,  Lord  Frothingham?  "  she  said.  "  It's  a  hor 
rible  nuisance,  having  a  man — a  husband — round  all 
day  long  with  nothing  to  do.  I  try  to  drive  Ridgie 
out  to  work.  But  he's  a  lazy  dog.  He  goes  a  few 
steps  and  then  comes  slinking  back.  I'm  opposed  to 
a  leisure  class — of  men." 

"  And  you  said  only  yesterday,"  complained 
Ridgie,  "  that  Englishmen  make  better  lovers  than 
Americans  because  they  have  leisure  and  the  sense  of 
leisure,  while  Americans  are  forever  looking  at  watches 
and  clocks." 

"  Did  I  ?  But  that  was  yesterday,"  retorted  his 
wife.  "  Besides,  I  said  lovers — not  husbands.  Give 
me  an  English  lover,  but  a  hard-working,  stay-away- 
from-home  American  husband." 

[146] 


CHAPTER    NINE 

"  Do  you  wonder  that  I  watch  a  wife  who  talks  like 
that?  "  said  Ridgie  cheerfully. 

Frothingham  and  Cecilia  rode  the  next  morning. 
Getting  away  from  the  staid  old  house  in  Mount  Ver- 
non  Street  seemed  to  have  revived  and  cheered  her. 
There  was  colour  in  her  cheeks,  life  in  her  eyes,  and  she 
showed  by  laughing  and  talking  a  great  deal  that  she 
was  interested  in  the  earth  for  a  moment  at  least. 
Ridgie  had  given  Frothingham  a  difficult  horse,  but  as 
he  rode  well  he  succeeded  in  carrying  on  a  reasonably 
consecutive  conversation  with  Cecilia.  She  asked  him 
many  questions  about  country  life  in  England,  and 
drew  him  on  to  tell  her  much  of  his  own  mode  of  living. 
And  he  ended  with,  "  Altogether,  I'd  be  quite  cheer 
ful  and  happy  if  I  were  properly  established." 

Cecilia  became  instantly  silent  and  cold — and  again 
he  had  the  feeling  that  she  was  expecting  something 
to  happen. 

"  What  the  place  needs,"  he  went  on  boldly,  "  what 
I  need,  is — a  woman — such  a  woman  as  you." 

His  horse  reared,  leaped  in  the  air,  tried  to  bolt. 
It  was  full  a  minute  before  he  got  it  under  control. 
"  Nasty  brute,"  he  said,  resettling  his  eyeglass,  and 
turning  his  face  toward  her  again.  He  thrilled  with 

[147] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

hope.  "  Is  there  a  chance  for  me  ?  "  he  asked.  "  I 
have  not  spoken  to  your  father — that  isn't  the  Amer 
ican  way,  is  it?  And  I  sha'n't  trouble  you  with  a  lot 
of — of  the  usual  sort  of  talk — until  I  know  whether 
it's  welcome.  You're  not  the  sort  of  girl  a  man  ven 
tures  far  with  unless  he's  jolly  sure  he  knows  where 
he's  going." 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said  simply.  "  I  shall  be  frank 
with  you.  My  father  wishes  me  to  marry  you.  If  his 
will  were  not  stronger  than  mine  I  shouldn't  think  of 
it.  It  is  only  fair  to  tell  you  why."  She  was  looking 
at  him  tranquilly.  "  I  loved  a  man — loved  him  well 
enough  to  have,  where  he  was  concerned,  a  stronger 
will  than  my  father.  But  he  died.  I  love  him  still. 
I  shall  always  love  him.  When  my  father  told  me  that 
he  wished  me  to  marry  you,  I  asked  my  lover — and  he 
— said  that  I  ought  to  obey.  He  has  been  urging  me 
to  marry — except  occasionally — ever  since  he  died." 

Frothingham  stared  at  her  in  utter  amazement. 

"  Do  you  mind "  he  began,  but  again  his  horse 

tried  to  throw  him.  When  he  got  it  under  control  he 
saw  that  she  was  much  amused — apparently  at  him. 
She  rode  up  close  beside  him,  laid  her  hand  on  his 
horse's  neck  and  said,  "  Please,  Stanley,  don't ! "  in  a 

[148] 


CHAPTER    NINE 

curiously  tender  tone.  The  horse  instantly  became 
quiet. 

"  You  were  saying?  "  she  asked. 

"  Do  you  mind  if  I  admit  that Really,  I'm 

not  sure  that  I  heard  you  aright  a  few  minutes 
ago." 

"  You  mean  when  I  spoke  of  talking  to  Stanley 
after  he  was  dead?  " 

"  Stanley "  Frothingham  regarded  her  quiz 
zically.  "  Is  this  horse  named  after — him?  " 

"  No — I  don't  know  what  the  horse's  name  is.  The 
reason  it  was  so  restless  was  that  Stanley  was  teasing 
him  to  make  him  a  little  troublesome  for  you." 

Frothingham  paled  and  glanced  round. 

"  The  second  night  after  he  died,"  she  went  on,  a 
far-away  look  in  her  eyes,  "  he  came  to  me  in  a  dream. 
He  assured  me  that  he  was  happy,  and  that  I  must  be 
so,  too,  and  that  he  would  always  be  with  me,  nearer, 
in  more  perfect  communion,  than  if  he  had  remained 
alive.  It  was  just  when  Dr.  Yarrow  was  beginning 
his  experiments  to  establish  communication  with 
the  other  world.  Stanley  and  I  had  been  most  inter 
ested.  And  when  he  appeared  to  me  after  his  death 
he  explained  that  he  had  been  able,  through  the  in- 

[149] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

tensity  of  his  love  for  me,  to  pierce  the  barrier  and 
bring  his  soul  and  my  soul  face  to  face." 

Frothingham  showed  that  he  was  profoundly 
moved.  "  When  I  was  a  little  chap,"  he  said  in  a  low 
voice,  "  I  ran  bang  into  the  ghost  of  an  ancestor  of 
mine — old  Hoel  de  Beauvais.  He  has  paced  a  hall  in 
the  east  wing  of  Beauvais  House  the  night  before  the 
head  of  the  family  dies,  for  hundreds  of  years.  They 
laughed  me  out  of  it,  but,  by  gad,  I  knew  I  saw  him — 
and  my  grandfather  was  thrown  from  his  horse  and 
killed  the  next  day.  I  pretend  not  to  believe  in  that 
sort  of  thing,  but  I  do — all  we  English  do." 

"  Nothing  could  be  more  certain,"  said  Cecilia, 
radiant  at  this  prompt  acceptance  of  what  she  ex 
pected  him  to  try  to  laugh  her  out  of.  "  I  have  told 
no  one — I  shouldn't  have  told  you  if  it  hadn't  seemed 
the  only  course  I  could  honestly  take." 

"  Can  you  see  him  now?"  asked  Frothingham  in 
an  awe-stricken  voice. 

"  No — I  see  him  only  in  dreams — and  sometimes 
when  I  go  to  Mrs.  Ramsay.  But  we  talk  together  at 
any  time.  You  noticed  how  he  stopped  teasing  the 
horse?  " 

The  horse  was,  indeed,  perfectly  quiet.    Frothing- 

[150] 


CHAPTER    NINE 

ham  nodded.  His  habitual  look  of  vacancy  and  satire 
had  given  place  to  earnestness  and  intense  interest. 
"  And  does  he  wish  you  to  marry  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Yes — he  has  said  it,  and  he  has  written  it — in  one 
of  the  first  letters  he  sent  me  through  Mrs.  Ramsay. 
I've  only  asked  him  verbally  about  you,  and  he  con 
sents  and  approves.  I'll  take  you  to  Mrs.  Ramsay, 
and  we'll  get  his  written  permission." 

"  But  why  does  he  consent  ?  "  asked  Frothingham. 
"  Is  there  no — no  jealousy — there?  ' 

"  Jealousy  ?  Impossible !  Don't  you  see,  he  can 
look  into  my  soul — he  knows  that  I  am  his.  And  all 
the  interest  he  has  in  this  gross  mortal  life  of  mine  is 
that  it  shall  be  honourable  and  that  I  shall  do  my  duty 
as  a  daughter  and  as  a  woman." 

Frothingham  said  no  more.  He  was  overwhelmed 
with  a  sense  of  the  imminence  of  an  unseen  world — 
that  world  which  had  been  made  real  to  him  by  his 
nurses,  bred  in  the  legends  and  superstitions  of  Eng 
land,  and  by  his  similarly  trained  companions  at  school, 
at  the  university,  and  ever  since.  It  was  a  shock,  but 
nothing  incredible  to  him,  this  revelation  of  a  daily 
and  hourly  commerce  with  that  other  world  of  which, 
he  was  certain  from  his  own  childhood  experience, 

[151] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

everyone  had  glimpses  now  and  then.  From  time  to 
time  he  looked  at  Cecilia,  now  returned  to  her  wonted 
expression  of  abstraction.  She  seemed  the  very  per 
son  to  have  such  an  experience.  He  was  filled  with 
awe  of  her ;  he  was  fascinated  by  her ;  he  began  to  feel 
the  first  faint,  vague  stirrings  of  jealousy  which  he 
dared  not  express,  even  to  himself,  lest  the  spirit  eyes 
of  Cecilia's  lover  should  peer  into  his  soul,  and  see, 
and  punish. 


A1  dinner  that  night  Willie  Kennefick,  who  was 
staying  in  the  house,  began  to  tell  his  experi 
ences  in  New  York — he  had  just  come  from  a 
little  visit  there.  "  The  woman  I  took  in  to  dinner," 
said  he,  "  gave  me  a  solar  plexus  while  I  was  busy  with 
the  oysters.  She  said  to  me,  '  I  went  to  see  such  a 
wonderful  man  to-day.  He  told  me  the  most  aston 
ishing  things  about  my  past  and  future,  and  he  sold 
me  a  little  wax  image  that  I'm  going  to  burn  for  my 
gout.'  '  What ! '  said  I.  '  For  my  gout,'  said  she.  '  I 
have  to  burn  it  slowly,  and  when  it's  consumed  my 
gout  will  be  gone.  I  got  it  so  cheap !  Only  twenty- 
five  dollars.' ' 

"  And  what  did  you  say,  Willie?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Thayer. 

"  I  said  '  Cheap  ?  It  was  a  shame  to  cheat  the  poor 
devil  in  that  fashion.'  And  she  said,  *  Wasn't  it  a 
bargain?  He  wanted  a  hundred,  but  I  brought  him 
down.' " 

[153] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

"  You  must  have  been  keeping  queer  company  in 
New  York,"  said  Henrietta  Gillett. 

"  Not  at  all.  It  was  at  Mrs.  Baudeleigh's  house, 
and  the  woman — well,  her  husband's  one  of  the  biggest 
lawyers  in  New  York.  But,  then,  that's  no  worse 
than  the  astrology  some  of  us  here  have  gone  daft 
over." 

"  Oh — astrology — that's  a  different  matter,"  ob 
jected  Mrs.  Thayer.  "  You  evidently  haven't  looked 
into  it.  That  is  a  science — not  at  all  the  same  as 
palmistry  and  spiritualism,  and  those  frauds." 

Cecilia  smiled — the  amused,  pitying  smile  of  wis 
dom  in  the  presence  of  ludicrous  ignorance — and 
looked  at  Frothingham.  He  returned  her  look — 
pleased  to  have  a  secret,  and  such  an  intimate  secret, 
in  common  with  her.  "  But  don't  you  think  you're  a 
bit  rash,  Mrs.  Thayer?  ':'  he  drawled.  "  You  cer 
tainly  believe  in  ghosts,  now,  don't  you  ?  '; 

Miss  Gillett's  handsome,  high-bred  face  expressed 
astonishment.  "  Do  you?  "  she  asked,  before  Mrs. 
Thayer  could  answer  him. 

"  We  can't  doubt  it  over  on  our  side.  We've  too 
much  evidence  of  it.  And — I  was  listening  to  an  old 
chap  from  Cambridge — your  Cambridge — very  clever 

[154] 


CHAPTER    TEN 
old  fellow,  7  thought — Yarrow,  wasn't  it?    Yes,  Yar 


row." 


"  Yarrow ! "  Miss  Gillett's  eyes  flashed  scorn. 
"  He's  a  disgrace  to  New  England.  We  pride  our 
selves  on  having  the  culture  of  Emerson  and  the  other 
great  men  of  our  past.  What  would  they  think  of  us 
if  they  could  look  in  on  us  with  our  Yarrows  and  our 
Gonga  Sahds  and  our  Mrs.  Ramsays.  All  the  sen 
sible  people  in  the  country  must  be  laughing  at  us. 
Pardon  me,  Lord  Frothingham — I'm  very  indignant 
at  what  I  regard  as  superstitions  and  impostors.  It's 
only  my  view." 

"  Not  at  all,  not  at  all,"  said  Frothingham  with  an 
uneasy  glance  at  Cecilia's  angry  face.  "  I'm  not  one 
of  those  who  wish  all  to  believe  alike.  What  the  devil 
should  we  do  if  we  hadn't  each  other's  opinions  to 
laugh  at?  " 

"  You're  such  an  ardent  disciple,"  continued  Miss 
Gillett,  "  you  ought  to  go  to  Yarrow's  Mrs.  Ramsay. 
She'll  put  you  in  communication  with  spirits,  as  many 
as  you  like,  or  rather  as  many  as  you  care  to  pay  for. 
I  think  she  gets  ten  a  ghost — twenty  for  letters." 

The  discussion  was  raging  hotly  round  the  table, 
all  but  two  of  the  men,  and  all  but  four  of  the  women 

[155] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

deriding  astrology,  palmistry,  Buddhism,  spiritual 
ism;  and  the  respective  devotees  of  these  cults  derid 
ing  each  the  others.  "  Cut  it  out,"  said  Mrs.  Ridgie 
finally.  "  We'll  have  *  rough  house  '  here  the  first 
thing  you  know." 

Everyone  laughed.  They  liked  slang,  and  Mrs. 
Ridgie's  was  the  boldest  and  quaintest.  When  the 
men  and  women  were  separated,  "  metaphysics  "  was 
again  attempted  by  both.  But  the  men  who  did  not 
believe  summarily  laughed  it  down  in  the  smoking 
room.  "  Those  fads  are  all  well  enough  for  the  women," 
said  Kennefick.  "  They've  got  to  do  something  to  pass 
the  time,  and  they  won't  do  anything  serious,  or,  if 
they  do,  they  make  a  joke  of  it.  But  our  men,  Lord 
Frothingham " — he  was  addressing  himself  to  the 
Earl,  whose  spiritualistic  views  he  had  not  heard  and 
did  not  suspect — "  are  too  busy  for  such  nonsense." 

"  That's  a  libel  on  the  woman,"  said  Thayer — his 
fad  was  a  militant  socialism  that  had  a  kindly  eye  for 
a  red  flag.  "  It's  only  women  of  the  so-called  fash 
ionable  class  who  go  in  for  such  silliness.  The  great 
mass  of  American  women  have  something  better  to 
do." 

"  That's  a  libel  on  the  women  of  the  better  class," 

[156] 


CHAPTER    TEN 

retorted  Kennefick.     "  Precious  few  of  them  are  so 
silly." 

"  If  it  isn't  that  it's  something  else  equally  idle," 
said  Thayer.  Except  Frothingham  he  was  the  best- 
dressed  man  in  the  room.  "  I've  no  time  for  idlers." 

"  Why  don't  you  give  your  money  away  and 
shoulder  a  pick?  "  asked  Kennefick  teasingly. 

"  I'm  not  fit  even  to  wield  a  pick  " — Thayer  was  one 
of  the  ablest  lawyers  in  Massachusetts — "  and  I'd  give 
my  money  away  if  I  could  without  doing  more  harm 
than  good.  There  are  two  kinds  of  parasites — the 
plutocrats  and  the  paupers.  I'm  '  agin '  'em  both. 
And,  as  for  spiritualism,  I  will  admit  that  I  don't 
think  we  know  enough  about  mind  or  the  relations  of 
mind  and  matter  to  dogmatise  as  you  fellows  have  been 
doing." 

Kennefick  winked  at  Frothingham  as  if  saying: 
"  Another  proof  that  Thayer's  a  crank." 

When  Frothingham  was  beside  Cecilia  in  the  draw 
ing  room  she  said :  "  Would  you  like  to  go  to  Mrs. 
Ramsay  ?  " 

"  Yes — will  you  take  me?  "  he  replied. 

"  I'll  write  to-night  making  an  appointment  for 
Wednesday." 

[157] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

He  was  liking  her  immensely  now,  and,  while  he  be 
lieved — not  nearly  so  vividly  as  at  first — in  her  con 
nections  with  the  other  world,  he  felt  growing  con 
fidence  that  they  would  rapidly  fade  before  reawaken 
ing  interest  in  this  world.  Meanwhile,  he  reasoned, 
his  cue  was  to  ingratiate  himself  by  sympathising  with 
her  and  encouraging  her  to  closer  and  closer  confi 
dence.  "  It's  only  a  step  from  best  friend  to  lover," 
he  said  to  himself.  And  he  made  admirable  use  of 
the  two  days  between  her  tentative  acceptance  of  him 
and  their  visit  to  Mrs.  Ramsay.  He  was  justly  proud 
of  his  manner  toward  her — a  little  of  the  brother,  a 
great  deal  of  the  best  friend,  the  tenderness  and  sym 
pathy  of  the  lover,  yet  nothing  that  could  alarm  her. 

Mrs.  Ramsay  lived  in  an  old  brick  cottage  in  a 
quiet  street  near  Louisburg  Square.  In  the  two  days 
Frothingham  had  become  somewhat  better  acquainted 
with  Henrietta  Gillett  and  had  got  a  strong  respect 
for  her  intelligence.  As  he  and  Cecilia  entered  the 
dark  little  parlour  he  remembered  what  Henrietta  had 
said  about  Mrs.  Ramsay,  and  was  on  guard.  The  first 
impression  he  received  was  of  a  perfume,  ujfmistak- 
ably  of  the  heaviest,  most  suspicious  Oriental  kind. 

"  Gad ! "  he  said  to  himself,  "  that  scent  don't  sug- 

[158] 


CHAPTER    TEN 

gest  spirits.  It  smells  tremendously  of  the  world,  the 
flesh,  and  the  devil,  especially  the  devil.'* 

As  his  eyes  became  accustomed  to  the  faint  light  he 
discovered  the  radiating  centre  of  this  odour — a  small 
blackish  woman  of  forty  or  thereabouts,  with  keen 
shifty  black  eyes  and  a  long  face  as  hard  and  flesh- 
less  from  the  cheekbones  down  as  from  the  cheekbones 
up.  The  mouth  was  wide  and  cold  and  cruel.  She 
was  dressed  in  a  loose  black  woollen  wrapper,  tight  at 
the  wrists,  and  her  scanty  black  hair  was  in  a  careless 
oily  coil  low  on  the  back  of  her  head.  Her  eyelids 
lifted  languidly  and  she  gave  Cecilia  her  hand — a 
pretty  hand,  slender  and  sensitive. 

"  Good-morning,  my  dear,"  she  said.  "  This  is  the 
Earl  of  Frothingham,  is  it  not  ?  " 

At  this  both  Cecilia  and  Frothingham  started — 
Cecilia  because  it  was  another  and  impressive  evidence 
of  Mrs.  Ramsay's  power;  Frothingham  because  he 
knew  that  voice  so  well.  His  knees  weakened  and  he 
looked  at  Mrs.  Ramsay  again. 

But  she  was  not  looking  at  him.  She  was  saying  to 
Cecilia :  "  Dr.  Yarrow  was  here  for  two  hours — he 
left  not  twenty  minutes  ago.  I  am  so  exhausted !  " 

"  Perhaps  we  would  better  come  to-morrow,"  said 

[159] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

Cecilia,  appeal,  apology,  and  disappointment  in  her 
voice. 

"  No — no,"  replied  Mrs.  Ramsay  wearily.  "  Dr. 
Yarrow  tells  me  he  has  never  known  me  to  be  so 
thoroughly  under  control  as  to-day.  And" — she 
smiled  faintly  at  Cecilia — "  you  know  I  would  do  any 
thing  for  you" 

"  You  "have  done  everything  for  me,"  said  Cecilia, 
and  her  tone  of  humble,  even  deferential,  gratitude 
filled  Frothingham  with  pity  and  disgust.  He  was 
staring  stolidly  at  Mrs.  Ramsay,  but  if  the  room  had 
been  lighter  his  changed  colour  and  white  lips  might 
have  been  noted.  Cecilia  seated  herself,  and  Froth 
ingham  gladly  sat  also,  where  he  could  see  Mrs.  Ram 
say's  face  without  her  seeing  him  unless  she  turned  her 
head  uncomfortably. 

She  rang  a  small  silver  bell  on  the  table  at  her  elbow. 
A  girl  answered.  "  The  light,  please,"  said  Mrs. 
Ramsay. 

The  girl  went  away  and  returned  in  a  moment  with 
a  lamp  whose  strong  flame  was  completely  and  curi 
ously  shielded  by  a  metal  sphere  except  at  one  point 
underneath.  When  it  was  set  upon  the  table  it  threw 
a  powerful  light  in  a  flood  upon  a  part  of  the  surface 

[160] 


CHAPTER    TEN 

of  the  table  about  six  inches  in  diameter.  The  girl 
went  to  the  windows  and  drew  the  heavy  curtains  across 
them.  It  was  now  impossible  to  see  anything  in  the 
room  except  that  small  disc  of  intense  light.  In  it 
presently  appeared  the  slender,  sensitive  right  hand  of 
Mrs.  Ramsay — it  seemed  to  end  at  the  wrist  in  noth 
ingness.  It  laid  upon  the  brightness  a  pad  of  white 
scribbling  paper  and  a  thick  pencil  with  the  heavy 
lead  slightly  rounded  at  the  end;  then  it  vanished. 
There  was  a  long  silence — Frothingham  was  sure  he 
could  hear  Cecilia's  faint  breathing.  His  own  breath 
hardly  came  at  all  and  his  heart  was  beating  crazily. 
He  stared  at  those  inanimate  objects  in  the  circle  of 
dazzling  light  until  his  brain  whirled. 

A  long  sigh,  apparently  from  Mrs.  Ramsay,  as  if 
she  were  sinking  into  a  deathlike  sleep ;  a  quick  catch 
ing  of  the  breath  from  the  direction  of  Cecilia.  He 
heard  her  move  her  chair  to  the  light  and  then  in  it 
appeared  her  hand — long  and  narrow,  looking  waxen 
white,  its  nails,  beautifully  rounded,  the  most  delicate 
blush  of  pink.  It  took  the  pencil  and  moved  across 
the  paper.  Frothingham  bent  forward — she  had 
written  large,  and  he  could  easily  read: 

Dearest! 

[161] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

Her  hand  disappeared,  and  again  there  was  in  that 
unearthly  light,  only  the  pad,  the  pencil,  and  the 
heart-call  into  the  infinite — "  Dearest !  " 

A  long  pause,  then  the  weird,  severed  hand — Froth- 
ingham  could  not  associate  it  with  Mrs.  Ramsay — 
crawled  haltingly  into  the  light,  hovered  over  the  pen 
cil,  took  it,  began  to  make  its  blunt  point  scrawl  along 
the  paper — a  loose,  shaky  handwriting.  With  the 
hair  on  the  back  of  his  head  trembling  to  rise,  Froth- 
ingham  read: 

My  wife — I  am  glad  you  have  come,  though  you  bring  another 
with  you  to  profane  our  holy  secret. 

In  the  darkness  a  sharp  exclamation  from  Cecilia, 
then  a  sound  like  a  sob.  The  hand  ceased  to  write, 
dropped  the  pencil,  vanished  instantly.  In  the  light 
appeared  Cecilia's  hand,  trembling,  its  veins  standing 
up,  blue  and  pulsing — Frothingham  was  amazed  that 
a  hand  by  itself  could  express  so  much ;  it  was  as  per 
fect  a  mirror  of  her  feelings  as  her  face  would  have 
been.  She  wrote  eagerly : 

But,  dearest,  you  told  me  only  this  morning  that  he  might, 
should,  see  all. 

Her  hand  lifted  the  sheet,  now  filled  with  writing, 
laid  it  beside  the  pad,  then  disappeared.  Again  there 

[162] 


CHAPTER    TEN 

was  a  long  silence,  and  again  the  mysterious  hand 
crawled  out  of  the  darkness,  loosely  held  the  pencil, 
and  wrote  slowly,  staggeringly,  faintly: 

No,  I  have  not  spoken  to  you,  seen  you,  since  he  came  into 
your  life — It  has  been  hard  for  me  to  push  my  way  through 
to-day — There  is  a  barrier  between  PS — You  have  been  deceived — 
Can  it  be  that  you — but  no,  I  trust  my  wife 

The  hand  paused.  "  Oh  !  oh  ! "  sobbed  Cecilia. 
The  hand  was  moving  again: 

My  friends  here  tell  me  that  you  are  going  away  across  the  sea 
with  an  English  fortune  hunter — with  him.  You  have  been  cruel 
enough  to  bring  him  here  to  our  bridal  chamber — Oh,  Cecilia 

The  end  of  the  sheet  had  been  reached,  but  the  hand 
wrote  on  for  a  few  seconds,  making  vague  markings  in 
space,  then  vanished,  dropping  the  pencil  with  a  noise 
that  in  the  strained  silence  sounded  like  a  crash  and 
made  both  Cecilia  and  Frothingham  leap  in  their 
chairs.  After  a  moment  Cecilia's  trembling,  eager, 
pathetic  hands  lifted  off  the  filled  sheet  and  withdrew. 
But  the  hand  did  not  return.  After  a  long  wait  her 
right  hand — it  seemed  bloodless  now — appeared  once 
more  upon  the  paper  and  wrote : 

I  have  been  deceived.  I  love  only  you.  I  thought  I  was  obey 
ing  you.  Speak  to  me,  dearest.  You  see  into  my  heart.  Speak 
to  me.  Do  not  leave  me  alone. 

[163] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

Her  hand  laid  the  sheet  upon  the  other  filled  sheets 
and  withdrew  from  that  neutral  ground  of  dazzling 
light  between  the  two  great  mystery  lands.  Imme 
diately  the  other  hand  darted  into  the  light,  caught 
the  pencil,  and  scrawled  in  great,  tottering  letters : 

Yes,  yes— but  I  cannot  until  he  has  gone  far  from  you — Then 
come  again — Good-b 

The  hand  vanished  and  there  was  a  moan  from  the 
darkness  that  enveloped  the  medium — a  moan  that 
ended  in  a  suppressed  shriek.  Frothingham  saw 
Cecilia's  hands  hastily  snatch  the  written  sheets  from 
under  the  light.  Then  he  heard  a  voice  in  his  ear — 
he  hardly  knew  it  as  hers :  "  Come — come  quickly  !  " 

He  rose,  and  with  his  hand  touching  her  arm  fol 
lowed  her.  The  door  opened — the  dim  hallway 
seemed  brightly  lighted,  so  great  was  the  contrast. 
The  maid  was  seated  there.  She  at  once  rose,  entered 
the  medium's  room,  and  closed  the  door  behind  her. 
Cecilia  and  Frothingham  went  into  the  quiet  little 
street — the  enormous  sunshine,  the  white  snow  over 
everything,  in  the  distance  the  rumble  of  the  city. 
He  gave  a  huge  sigh  of  relief,  and  wiped  the  sweat 
from  his  face — his  very  hair  was  wet  and  his  collar 

was  wilted.     He  was  sickly  pale. 

[164] 


'''Forgive  me — it  was  all  my  fault — yet  not  mine- 
good-bye — " 


CHAPTER    TEN 

"  She  always  wishes  to  be  left  that  way,"  said  Ce 
cilia,  as  if  she  did  not  know  what  she  was  saying. 

They  walked  to  the  corner  together.  "  I  am  not 
well,"  she  said.  He  ventured  to  look  at  her ;  she  was 
wan  and  old,  and  her  eyes  were  deep  circled  in  blue- 
black  and  she  was  blue-black  at  the  corners  of  her 
mouth,  at  the  edges  of  her  nostrils.  "  I  must  go 
home — they  will  telephone  Mrs.  Ridgie.  Don't  say 
where  I  was  taken  ill.  Forgive  me — it  was  all  my 

fault — yet  not   mine — good-bye "     She   did   not 

put  out  her  hand  to  him,  but  stood  off  from  him  with 
fear  and  anguish  in  her  eyes. 

"  The  woman's  a  fraud — a "  he  began. 

She  turned  upon  him  with  a  fury  of  which  he  would 
not  have  believed  her  capable.  "  Go !  go !  "  she  ex 
claimed,  as  if  she  were  driving  away  a  dog. 
"  Already  you  may  have  lost  me  my  love.  Go !  " 

He  shrank  from  her.  She  walked  rapidly  away, 
and  he  saw  her  hail  a  cab,  enter  it,  saw  the  cab  drive 
away.  With  his  head  down  he  went  in  the  opposite 
direction.  "  I  think  I  must  be  mad,"  he  muttered. 
He  thrust  his  hands  deep  into  the  outside  pockets  of 
his  ulster.  He  drew  out  his  right  hand — in  it  was  her 
purse,  which  she  had  given  him  to  carry  because  it  did 

[165] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

not  fit  comfortably  into  her  muff.     "  No,"  he  said, 
"  she  was  with  me." 

He  put  the  purse  in  the  pocket  and  strode  back 
the  way  he  had  come.  He  turned  into  the  quiet  little 
street,  went  to  Mrs.  Ramsay's  door,  lifted  and 
dropped  the  knocker  several  times.  The  maid  opened 
the  door  a  few  inches  and  showed  a  frowning 
face. 

Frothingham  widened  the  space  by  thrusting  him 
self  into  it.  "  Tell  Mrs.  Ramsay  that  Lord  Froth 
ingham  wishes  to  speak  to  her,"  he  said  in  a  tone  that 
made  her  servant  his  servant. 

She  went  into  the  ghost-chamber  and  soon  reap 
peared.  "  Mrs.  Ramsay  is  too  exhausted  to  see  any 
one  to-day." 

"  Bah !  "  exclaimed  Frothingham,  and  stalked  past 
the  maid  and  into  the  ghost-chamber. 

The  curtains  were  back  and  the  slats  of  the  shutters 
were  open.  Mrs.  Ramsay,  in  her  great  chair  by  the 
table,  was  using  a  bottle  of  salts.  She  did  not  look  in 
Frothingham's  direction  as  he  closed  the  door  sharply 
behind  him. 

He  went  to  her  and  scowled  down  at  her.  "  What 
the  devil  did  you  do  that  for,  Lillian  ?  '! 

[166] 


CHAPTER    TEN 

Mrs.  Ramsay  did  not  change  expression  and  did  not 
answer. 

"No  one  ever  treated  you  decenter  than  I  did. 
You " 

"  No  names,  please,  Slobsy,"  said  Mrs.  Ramsay, 
shaking  her  bottle  and  sniffing  it  again. 

At  "  Slobsy  "  he  shivered — he  was  not  a  lunatic  on 
the  subject  of  his  dignity,  but  he  did  not  fancy  this 
nickname  of  his  Oxford  days,  thus  inopportunely 
flung  at  him.  He  felt  that  at  one  stroke  she  had  cut 
the  ground  from  under  his  feet. 

"  I  was  sorry  to  do  it,"  she  continued.  "  But  I 
couldn't  have  you  poaching  on  my  preserves,  could  I 
now,  Slobsy  ?  It  cut  me  to  do  it  " — she  looked  at  him 
with  friendly  sympathy — "  but  you  could  better 
afford  to  lose  her  than  I  could.  You  forgive  me, 
don't  you?  You  always  were  sensible." 

"  I'll  expose  you,"  he  said — he  was  once  more  im 
perturbable,  and  was  looking  at  her  calmly  through 
his  eyeglass  and  was  speaking  in  his  faintly  satirical 
drawl. 

"  Expose — what  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Ramsay,  sniffing  at 
her  salts. 

He  reflected.  Suppose  he  denounced  her,  put  him- 

[  167  ] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

self  in  a  position  where  he  could,  probably  would,  be 
forced  to  tell  all  he  knew  about  her,  roused  her  anger 
and  her  vindictiveness — whom  would  he  expose? 
Clearly,  no  one  but  himself  to  Cecilia,  or  Cecilia  to  the 
public.  He  knew  nothing  about  Mrs.  Ramsay  that 
would  prove  her  a  fraud — in  fifteen  years  she  might 
have  become  the  properest  person  in  the  world,  might 
have  developed  into  a  medium.  He  turned  and  left 
the  room  and  the  house.  Halfway  to  the  corner  he 
paused ;  a  faint,  dreary  smile  drifted  over  his  face. 

"  It's  really  a  new  sensation — to  settle  a  bill,"  he 
said  to  himself.  "  An  outlawed  bill,  too.  What  luck 
— just  my  rotten  luck ! " 


[168] 


XI 


A  Mrs.  Ridgie's  they  guessed  that  Froth- 
ingham  had  proposed  to  Cecilia  and  that  she 
had  been  unnerved  by  the  shock  to  her  wid 
owed  heart.  He  stayed  on  until  the  following  Mon 
day,  neither  amused  nor  amusing,  then  returned  to 
Mrs.  Staunton's  for  two  days.  He  found  her  intensely 
curious  as  to  the  trouble  between  Cecilia  and  him — she 
brought  up  the  subject  again  and  again,  and  with 
expert  ingenuity  at  prying  tried  to  trap  him  into 
telling  her;  she  all  but  asked  him  point-blank.  But 
he  looked  vague  or  vacant,  pretended  not  to  under 
stand  what  she  wanted,  expressed  lively  interest  in 
Cecilia's  progress  toward  health,  professed  keen 
regret  that  he  must  leave  before  she  would  be  well 
enough  to  receive  him. 

As  he  was  about  to  go  Mrs.  Staunton  became  des 
perate.  "  Allerton  is  a  stern  man,"  she  said,  with  an 
air  that  forbade  the  idea  that  mere  vulgar  curiosity 
was  moving  her.  "  He  has  the  notion  that  Cecilia 

[169] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

was  not  polite  to  you — you  know,  she  gives  way  to 
strange  moods.  And  he  is  so  irritated  against  her 
that  he  is  treating  her  harshly." 

Frothingham  looked  astonished.  "  Really ! "  he 
said.  "  How  extraordinary.  I  can't  conceive  how  he 
happened  to  wander  off  into  that.  Nothing  could  be 
farther  from  the  truth." 

"  I  confess,"  Mrs.  Staunton  went  on,  "  I'm  much 
disappointed.  I've  taken  a  fancy  to  you.  I  had 
rather  hoped  that  you  and  Cecilia  would  like  each 
other — you  understand." 

Frothingham  reflected.  It  was  possible,  yes,  prob 
able,  that  Cecilia's  father  could  drive  her  into  marry 
ing  him,  would  do  it  if  he  should  hint  to  Mrs.  Staunton 
that  he  did  fancy  Cecilia  and  was  "  horribly  cut  up  " 
because  she  didn't  fancy  him.  "  What  the  devil  do 
her  feelings  matter  to  me  ?  "  he  demanded  of  himself. 
"  A  month  after  we  were  married  she'd  forget  all  this 
ghost  nonsense  and  would  be  thanking  me  for  pulling 
her  out  of  it." 

"  And,"  Mrs.  Staunton  was  saying,  "  I  know  her 
father  would  have  liked  it  as  well  as  I." 

But  Frothingham  didn't  follow  his  impulse  and  her 
unconscious  leading.  "  What  am  I  thinking  of?  " 

[170] 


CHAPTER     ELEVEN 

he  said  to  himself  in  the  sharp  struggle  that  was  going 
on  behind  his  impassive  exterior.  "  I'm  not  that  sort 
of  blackguard — at  least,  not  yet."  Then  he  drawled 
his  answer  to  Mrs.  Staunton:  "  I'm  tremendously  flat 
tered,  but  really,  I  fear  the  young  lady  and  I  would 
never  hit  it  off.  I've  no  great  fancy  for  marrying — 
never  had.  I've  always  thought  it  a  poor  business — 
one  of  the  sort  of  things  that  are  good  for  the  women 
and  children,  you  know,  but  not  for  the  men." 

Mrs.  Staunton  looked  mild  and  humourous  disap 
proval.  "  What  is  the  world  coming  to  ?  A  man  asked 
me  the  other  day  why  all  the  nice  women  were  mar 
ried  and  all  the  nice  men  single.  I  hadn't  thought  of 
it  until  he  spoke.  But  I  must  say  it's  true  of  my 
acquaintances." 

"  I  hope  you'll  let  Mr.  Allerton  know  he's  wrong," 
said  Frothingham.  "  I  hate  it  that  the  poor  girl's 
had  the  screws  put  on  her  on  my  account." 

"  Certainly — I'll  tell  him.  But  I'm  sorry  it's  not  to 
be  as  we  hoped."  She  was  studying  him  with  a  puz 
zled  expression.  She  had  heard  from  what  she 
regarded  as  a  thoroughly  trustworthy  source  that  he 
had  come  over  especially  to  get  him  a  rich  wife.  If 
that  wasn't  his  object,  why  was  he  wandering  about 

[171] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

here?  Titled  foreigners  didn't  come  to  America  ex 
cept  for  the  one  thing  of  interest  to  them  which 
America  has — money.  She  could  not  understand  his 
unbusiness-like  conduct. 

He  couldn't  understand  it  himself.  "  I  always  was 
an  ass,"  he  thought.  "  Here  am  I,  sinking  straight 
to  the  bottom — or,  what's  worse,  the  bottomless.  Yet 
I'm  squeamish  about  the  kind  of  line  that  pulls  me 
ashore.  Yes — I'm  an  ass.  Even  Lillian,  well  as  I 
knew  her  at  Oxford,  took  me  in  a  bit  with  her  trumpery 
tricks  to  make  a  living.  She  completely  foozled  me — 

that  is "     Did  she  "  foozle  "  him?     He  couldn't 

banish  the  doubt.  And  there  was  the  incident  of  the 
horse — Lillian  had  nothing  to  do  with  that,  yet  it 
fitted  in  with  her  professions  as  to  the  spirit  world. 
But  hadn't  she  as  good  as  owned  up  by  apologising 
for  breaking  it  off  between  him  and  Cecilia?  Per 
haps  she  hadn't  meant  that;  perhaps  she  had  meant 
she  was  sorry  to  be  the  medium  for  such  a  letter. 
"  There  was  a  lot  of  truth  in  that  letter.  And  there 
must  be  something  in  witches  and  ghosts  and  all  that, 
or  the  whole  world  wouldn't  believe  in  'em.  But  what 
ghastly  luck  that  Lillian  should  turn  up  after  fifteen 
years — no,  seventeen,  by  Jove!  Gad,  how  she  has 

[172] 


CHAPTER     ELEVEN 

gone  off  since  she  was  bar-maid  at  the  Golden  Cross 
and  the  prettiest  girl  that  walked  the  High  Street." 

He  paused  in  New  York  a  few  hours,  long  enough 
to  get  a  disagreeable  mail  from  the  other  side — a 
dismal  letter  from  old  Bagley,  a  suspiciously  cheerful 
note  from  Evelyn,  a  few  lines  from  Surrey  with  a  post 
script  about  Gwen — "  I've  shipped  her  off  to  Mentone. 
She's  a  bit  seedy  this  winter,  poor  girl."  Frothing- 
ham  quarrelled  at  Hutt,  drank  himself  into  a  state  of 
glassy-eyed  gloom  and  took  the  three-o'clock  express 
for  Washington.  As  he  sat  in  the  smoking  car  a  man 
dropped  into  the  next  chair  with  a  "  How  d'ye  do, 
Frothingham?  "  Frothingham's  features  slowly  col 
lected  into  an  expression  of  recognition,  of  restrained 
pleasure.  "  Glad  to  see  you,  Wallingford.  Going 
to  Washington  ?  5: 

"  Yes — I'm  in  Congress,  you  know." 

"  No,  I  didn't  know."  And  it  struck  him  as  uncom 
monly  modest  in  Wallingford  never  to  have  spoken  of 
so  distinguished  an  honour. 

"  My  father  put  me  in  last  year." 

"  Oh,  you've  a  seat  in  your  family."  Frothing 
ham  nodded  under  standingly.  "  That's  very  nice. 
They've  almost  abolished  that  sort  of  luxury  with  us. 

[173] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

Nowadays,  to  get  into  Parliament  a  fellow  has  to  put 
up  a  good  many  thousand  pounds.  Even  then  he 
must  take  his  chances  of  winning  a  lot  of  noisy  brutes. 
They  often  shout  for  him  and  vote  for  the  other 
fellow." 

Wallingford's  face  had  flushed  when  Frothingham 
said  "  a  seat  in  your  family,"  and  the  flush  had  deep 
ened  as  he  went  on.  "  You  haven't  got  it  quite 
straight,  Frothingham — about  us,  I  mean.  No  one 
can  have  a  Congressional  seat  in  his  family  in  America. 
My  father  has  some  influence  with  the  party  in  New 
York  City.  He  always  puts  up  a  lot  of  money  for 
campaigns.  And  they  give  him  the  chance  to  name  a 
Congressman — if  he's  willing  to  pay  for  it.  That's 
between  us,  you  understand.  It's  a  bad  system.  But 
it  applies  only  to  a  few  districts  in  New  York  and 
perhaps  one  or  two  other  cities." 

"  It  sounds  like  our  system,"  said  Frothingham. 
"  A  devilish  good  system,  I  call  it.  If  it  weren't  for 
that  the  lower  classes  would  be  chucking  us  all  out 
and  putting  their  own  kind  in." 

"  Well,  we  think  it  bad.  I  feel  something  like  a 
fellow  who  knows  he  wouldn't  have  won  the  race  if  he 

hadn't  bribed  the  other  fellow's  jockey." 

[174] 


CHAPTER     ELEVEN 

"  That's  your  queer  American  way  of  looking  at 
things.  You  are  always  pretending  that  birth  and 
rank  and  wealth  aren't  entitled  to  consideration.  But 
that's  all  on  the  surface — all  '  bluff,'  as  you  say. 
They  get  just  as  much  consideration  here  as  among 


us." 


"  You're  judging  the  whole  country  by  the  people 
in  one  small  class — and  not  by  any  means  all  of 
them." 

"  Human  nature  is  human  nature,"  replied  Froth- 
ingham,  with  a  cynical  gleam  in  his  eyeglass. 

"  If  you  go  out  West " 

"  I'll  find  what  I've  found  in  the  East,  no  doubt — 
perhaps  in  a  little  different  form.  I'm  visiting  West 
ern  people  at  Washington — after  I've  stopped  at  the 
Embassy  a  few  days — some  people  I'm  meeting 
through  an  American  acquaintance  of  ours  in  Eng 
land — Charles  Sidney." 

"  Sidney  !  "  Wallingf  ord  laughed.  "  He's  my 
second  cousin.  Ain't  he  a  shouting  cad?  " 

"  Oh,  I  think  he's  a  well-meaning  chap — most 
obliging." 

"  I  should  say  so — to  anybody  he  crawls  before. 
And  who  are  these  Westerners  he's  sending  you  to?  " 

[175] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

"  The  Ballantynes.  I  think  Mr.  Ballantyne's  a 
Senator,  is  he  not?  " 

Wallingford  laughed  again.  "  That's  one  on  me," 
he  said.  "  Yes,  they're  from  the  West.  But  for 
everything  that  isn't  American  they  lay  it  over  any 
body  you've  seen  in  New  York.  Ballantyne!  I 
sha'n't  say  any  more.  It's  of  no  use  to  tell  you  you're 
going  round  and  round  in  a  circle  that's  in  America 
but  not  really  of  it." 

"  Do  you  know  the  Ballantynes?  " 

"  I've  met  Mrs.  Ballantyne— and  the  daughter 
that's  married  to  a  Spaniard — the  Duke  of  Almansa. 
They  were  at  Monte  Carlo  three  years  ago  when  I  was 
there.  A  handsome  woman — amusing,  too.  She 
spent  most  of  her  time  in  the  gambling  rooms — used 
to  come  in  always  dressed  in  something  new  and  loud 
— and  what  tremendous  hats  she  did  wear!  She'd 
throw  on  the  table  a  big  gold  purse  blazing  with  dia 
monds.  Then  she'd  seat  herself  and  open  the  purse, 
and  it  would  be  stuffed  with  thousand-franc  notes. 
She'd  plunge  like  a  Russian.  Every  once  in  a  while 
she'd  go  out  on  the  balcony  and  walk  up  and  down 
smoking  a  cigarette.  She  forbade  her  husband  the 
Casino  unless  she  was  with  him;  even  then  he  wasn't 

[176] 


CHAPTER     ELEVEN 

allowed  to  stake  a  single  louis.     He'd  slip  away  and 
play  in  one  of  those  more  private  rooms  upstairs." 

Frothingham  smiled  reminiscently. 

"  You  know,  the  play's  higher  there,"  continued 
Wallingford.  "  But  the  crowd  of  spectators  was  too 
small  and  indifferent  for  Her  Grace  of  Almansa. 
When  she  found  out  what  he  was  up  to  she  made  a 
scene  right  before  everybody — '  How  dare  you  squan 
der  my  money?  '  she  said,  "  and  she  led  him  off  like  a 
spaniel  on  its  way  to  a  whipping." 

"  Charming  person,"  said  Frothingham.  "  Must 
have  been  amusing." 

"  Indeed  she  was.  They'd  talk  of  her  all  day  with 
out  growing  tired — and  always  a  new  freak.  You'll 
be  amused  by  her." 

"Ah— she's  here?" 

"  Yes — left  the  Duke  two  years  ago — paid  him 
off  and  came  home  to  her  father.  She's  quite  quiet 
now,  they  say — educating  her  children." 

Frothingham's  three  days  at  the  British  Embassy 
were  to  him  days  upon  an  oasis  in  the  desert.  It  was 
literally  as  well  as  legally  part  of  the  British  domain — 
Britain  indeed,  as  soon  as  the  outside  door  were  passed. 
The  servants  at  most  of  the  houses  at  which  he  had 

[177] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

been  entertained  were  direct  and  recent  importations 
from  England,  yet  they  had  already  lost  an  essential 
something — even  his  faithful  Hutt  was  not  the  docile, 
humble  creature  he  had  been.  But  here  in  the  Em 
bassy  the  servants,  like  the  attaches,  like  the  Ambas 
sador's  family,  like  the  Ambassador  himself,  were  as 
English  in  look,  in  manner,  in  thought,  as  if  they  had 
never  been  off  the  island.  The  very  furniture  and  the 
arrangement  of  it,  the  way  the  beds  were  made  and  the 
towels  were  hung  in  the  bathrooms,  represented  the 
English  people  as  thoroughly  as  did  the  Ambas 
sador. 

From  this  miniature  Britain  Frothingham  on  the 
third  day  was  transferred  to  the  international  chaos 
beneath  the  turrets  and  battlements  of  the  Ballantyne 
castle.  When  the  house  was  finished,  twelve  years 
before  Frothingham  saw  it,  the  various  suites  were 
furnished  each  on  a  definite  scheme — French  or  Eng 
lish  or  Italian  of  different  periods,  classical,  Oriental, 
Colonial  American.  But  the  Ballantynes  had  the  true 
American  weariness  of  things  that  are  completed. 
They  were  not  long  interested  in  their  house  after  it 
was  done.  They  felt  like  strangers  in  it,  lived  in  it 

only  for  the  sake  of  show,  were  positively  uncomf ort- 

[178] 


CHAPTER     ELEVEN 

able.  More  through  carelessness  and  indifference 
than  through  ignorance,  the  movable  objects  in  the 
suites  had  become  changed  about — a  gradual  process, 
imperceptible  to  the  inhabitants.  There  were  now 
specimens  of  every  style  and  every  period  in  each 
suite;  and  Frothingham,  who  knew  about  interiors, 
seeing  this  interior  for  the  first  time,  thought  it  the 
work  of  an  eccentric  verging  on  lunacy. 

"  Awful,  isn't  it  ?  "  said  Madame  Almansa,  as  she 
was  called.  She  had  noted  Frothingham's  glance 
roaming  the  concourse  of  nations  and  periods  that 
thronged  the  walls  and  floor  space  of  the  vast  parlour 
— the  Ballantynes  used  the  American  term  instead  of 
the  British  "  drawing  room." 

Frothingham  looked  at  her  inquiringly. 
"  What?  "  he  said,  pretending  not  to  understand. 

"  Do  you  wonder  I  refuse  to  live  here?  "  she  went 
on,  as  if  he  had  not  spoken.  "  There's  some  excuse 
for  the  great  houses  on  the  other  side.  At  least  the 
present  tenants  didn't  build  them  and  can  put  the 
responsibility  upon  their  ignorant  semi-barbaric 
ancestors." 

"  That  has  struck  me  as  a  bit  queer,"  replied  Froth 
ingham.  "  Over  on  our  side  we're  cursing  our  ances- 

[179] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

tors  for  having  burdened  us  with  huge  masses  of  brick 
and  stone — beastly  uncomfortable,  aren't  they?  " 

"  Worse — unhealthful,"  she  answered.  "  And  as 
dwelling  places  for  human  beings,  ridiculous." 

"  Yes — and  it  takes  an  army  to  keep  'em  clean,  and 
then  it  isn't  half  done.  And  it  does  cost  such  a  lot  to 
keep  'em  up.  And  there's  no  way  of  heating  them. 
We  don't  build  'em  any  more — except  new  people  that 
must  show  off." 

"  That's  the  trouble  here,"  said  Madame  Almansa. 
"  The  new  people  who  know  nothing  of  the  art  of 
living  build  palaces  as  soon  as  ever  they  can  afford  it. 
It's  supposed  to  be  the  badge  of  superiority.  Instead, 
it's  the  badge  of  ignorance  and  vulgarity.  I  refuse 
to  permit  my  children  to  live  in  the  midst  of  such  non 
sense.  You  must  come  to  see  us,  Lord  Frothingham, 
in  our  little  house  just  through  this  square." 

Her  sister,  Isabella,  who  called  herself  Ysobel 
because  she  fancied  it  more  aristocratic,  laughed 
queerly — almost  a  sneer,  though  good-natured.  And 
when  Frothingham  went  away  to  her  father's  sitting 
room,  she  laughed  again.  "  It's  all  very  well  for  you, 
Susanna " 

"  Susan,"  interrupted  Madame  Almansa. 

[180] 


CHAPTER     ELEVEN 

"  Well,  Susan,  then — though  I  hate  to  pronounce 
such  a  common  word  in  addressing  anyone  above  the 
rank  of  servant.  It's  all  very  well  for  you  to  talk  in 
that  fashion.  You've  established  yourself.  You  can 
afford  to  affect  simplicity,  and  to  insist  on  being 
called  Susan,  and  on  dropping  your  title,  and  on  living 
in  a  plain  little  house,  and  on  bringing  up  your  chil 
dren  as  if  they  were  tradesmen's  sons  instead  of  the 
sons  of  one  of  the  proudest  nobles  in " 

"  You  know  Almansa,"  interrupted  *  Susan.' 
"  How  can  you  speak  of  him  as  proud  or  a 
noble?" 

"  He  is  a  weazened,  oily  creature,"  admitted  Ysobel, 
delighted  to  make  her  sister  wince  by  agreeing  with 
her  and  "  going  her  one  better."  "  And  I  jumped 
for  joy  when  you  shook  him,  because  I  shouldn't  have 
to  let  him  kiss  me  any  more.  But,  all  the  same,  he's  a 
great  noble.  And  you  know  perfectly  well,  Madame 
Almansa,  that  if  you  had  it  to  do  all  over  again  you'd 
marry  him — yes,  if  he  were  ten  times  worse " 

"  Don't,  Bella — please !  "  exclaimed  "  Susan  "  in  a 
large,  tragic  way.  "  Mon  Dieu !  "  She  clasped  her 
hands  and  in  heroic  agitation  swept  magnificently  up 
and  down  the  small,  clear  space.  "  When  I  think  of 

[181] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

the  heritage  of  my  boys — my  Emilio  and  my  Al 
fonso " 

"  My  Prince  Rio  Blanco  and  my  Marquis  Calamar," 
mocked  Ysobel.  "  Cut  it  out,  Sue.  I  loathe — cant !  " 

"  Instead  of  filling  your  head  with  these  false 
notions  of  nobility,"  said  "  Sue,"  sarcastically,  "  you 
would  better  look  to  your  English,  at  least.  But  the 
vulgar  speech  you  and  your  girl  friends  use  nowadays 
is  in  keeping  with  your  vulgar  ideas  of  aristocracy." 

"  Yes,  Madame  la  Duchesse,"  said  Ysobel,  her  good 
nature  unruffled.  "  And  when  I've  married  a  title 
and  then  shaken  the  man  I'll  talk  in  the  same  top-lofty 
way  that  you  do." 

Madame  Almansa  raised  and  lowered  her  superb 
shoulders  and  changed  the  subject  to  dress — she 
affected  an  extreme  of  simplicity,  and  that  required  a 
great  deal  more  time  and  thought  than  her  former 
easily  gratified  craze  for  the  startling.  Presently 
her  father  came  with  Frothingham.  "  You're  going 
to  Senator  Pope's  to  dinner,  aren't  you  ?  "  he  said 
absently.  Frothingham  thought  he  looked  like  the 
pictures  of  "  Brother  Jonathan,"  except  that  his  white 
chin  whiskers  were  rooted  in  a  somewhat  larger  chin 
space. 

[182] 


CHAPTER     ELEVEN 

"  Not  I,"  replied  Madame  Almansa.  "  You  know, 
father,  I'm  to  stay  here  and  do  the  honours  at  your 
dinner." 

"  Yes,  yes,  Susie — I  remember."  Senator  Ballan- 
tyne  seemed  pleased,  but  uneasy.  "  But  you  must  be 
careful — very  careful.  Your  grand  airs  will  frighten 


'em." 


Ysobel  laughed.  "  Mamma  and  I  are  going  to 
Mrs.  Pope,"  she  said,  "  and  Lord  Frothingham,  too. 
And  then  we  all  go  to  the  White  House  dance  after 
ward." 

"  No,  the  White  House  dance  is  to-morrow  night," 
said  Madame  Almansa.  "  I  am  going." 

"  Well,  well — no  matter,"  interposed  Senator  Bal- 
lantyne.  "  All  I  want  is  to  be  sure  that  you  get  out  of 
the  way  before  my  constituents  come.  Your  mother 
ought  to  be  ashamed  of  herself  to  desert  me.  But 
I  suppose  they  won't  mind  it  so  long  as  Sue  is 
here." 

"  What  time's  your  dinner,  pa?  "  asked  Ysobel. 

"  Half-past  six,"  replied  the  Senator,  and  he 
turned  to  Frothingham :  "  At  home  they  have  dinner 
— no,  they  call  it  supper — at  five  o'clock." 

"  That's  'way,  'way  out  West,  Lord  Frothingham," 

[183] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

explained  Ysobel,  "  where  papa  and  mamma  come 
from." 

"  And  you,  too,  young  lady,"  said  her  father  teas- 
ingly.  "  You  were  born  there." 

"  Yes,  but  I  was  caught  young  and  taken  to 
France,"  retorted  Ysobel.  "  I  spoke  French  before  I 
spoke  English." 

Senator  Ballantyne  frowned,  became  abstracted,  was 
presently  sighing.  His  eldest  daughter  heard  it  and 
gave  a  theatrical  sigh  of  sympathy.  Ballantyne 
seemed  not  to  hear,  but  something  had  irritated  him, 
for  he  frowned  heavily. 

Mrs.  Ballantyne  came  in  from  her  drive.  She  was 
a  fine-looking  woman,  had  all  the  outward  appearance 
of  the  grande  dame,  and  acted  the  part  so  well  that 
not  even  herself  had  caught  her  in  a  slip  for  many 
years — a  notable  triumph  in  the  art  of  pose  when  it  is 
considered  that  she  was  a  country-school  teacher  until 
she  was  twenty-four  and  had  never  seen  a  city  or  been 
east  of  the  Alleghenies  until  she  was  past  thirty. 
Frothingham  helped  her  relieve  herself  of  a  great 
sable-lined  cloak  which  he  handed  to  a  servant.  The 
servant  bent  double  in  a  bow — Mrs.  Ballantyne  paid 

well  for  obsequiousness.     "  When  do  those  people  of 

[184] 


CHAPTER     ELEVEN 

yours  begin  to  come,  Samuel?  "  she  asked,  framing 
her  sentence  and  her  manner  to  impress  Frothing- 
ham. 

Ballantyne  looked  annoyed,  and,  with  a  furtive 
glance  at  him,  said :  "  Lord  Frothingham  will  carry 
away  a  strange  notion  of  democratic  institutions  as 
represented  by  Senators,  mother." 

Mrs.  Ballantyne  permitted  him  to  call  her  mother 
because  it  was  the  only  word  of  address  that  did  not 
rasp  her  aristocratic  nature.  Her  name  was  Jane — 
that  she  could  not  endure  even  before  the  days  of  her 
grandeur.  She  had  made  him  call  her  Mrs.  Ballan 
tyne  before  people  until  she  discovered  that  it  was 
"  shocking  bad  form."  She  decided  upon  mother 
because  the  old  Austrian  Ambassador,  whose  title  was 
of  the  oldest  and  whose  blood  was  of  the  thin  and 
pale  bluest,  said  to  her  one  day,  "  I  like  your  American 
fashion  of  husbands  and  wives  calling  each  other 
mother  and  father.  It  has  a  grand  old  patriarchal 
ring.  My  wife  and  I  have  adopted  it." 

"  You  must  get  out  of  the  way  by  six  o'clock," 
continued  Ballantyne,  addressing  himself  to 
"  mother."  "  Several  of  them  said  they'd  come  round 
early  for  half  an  hour's  chat  before  supper." 

[185] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

"  I'm  sorry  we're  to  be  driven  out,"  said  Frothing- 
ham.  "  I  fancy  I'd  like  to  see  your  constituents." 

"  Oh,  no,  you  wouldn't,  Lord  Frothingham,"  Mrs. 
Ballantyne  answered  him — for  his  benefit  she  was 
"  laying  it  on  with  a  trowel,"  as  Ysobel  would  have 
said.  "  They're — but  you  know  how  it  is  in  politics. 
I  wish  Samuel  would  leave  public  life." 

"  What ! "  exclaimed  Ballantyne,  in  mock  horror. 
"  And  have  all  our  poor  relations  that  I've  got  nicely 
placed  at  the  public  crib  bounced  in  a  body,  and  come 
grunting  and  squealing  to  me  to  be  supported !  One 
of  the  objects  in  getting  public  office  in  this  country, 
Lord  Frothingham,  is  to  relieve  one's  self  of  the  sup 
port  of  one's  poor  relations  and  friends.  The  late 
President  Arthur  said  to  me  when  he  was  at  the  White 
House :  '  The  degradation  of  it !  That  I  should 
have  to  lower  myself  for  six  hours  every  day  to  keep 
ing  an  employment  agency ! ' 

"  But  we  can't  dress  and  drive  round  the  streets 
from  six  o'clock  until  eight,"  said  Ysobel. 

"  They'll  be  in  the  reception-room  by  eight,"  re 
plied  her  mother,  "  or  else  they  won't  be  through 
dinner.  We  can  get  out  unseen." 

Frothingham  maintained  his  look  of  blank  indiffer- 

[186] 


CHAPTER     ELEVEN 

ence,  but  underi  eath  he  was  vastly  amused — "  And 
they're  quite  unconscious  what  cads  they  are,"  he 
thought.  As  if  in  answer  to  this,  Senator  Ballantyne 
said  to  him,  in  a  tone  of  humourous  apology :  "  Our 
constituents  are  plain  people,  Lord  Frothingham — 
honest,  simple.  They  lead  quiet,  old-fashioned  lives. 
I  always  send  my  family  away  or  make  them  '  come  off 
their  perch '  when  I  have  to  receive  anyone  from 
home — that  is,  any  but  my  regular  political  lieuten 
ants.  To  tell  you  the  gospel  truth,  I'm  ashamed  to 
have  my  old  friends  see  how  absurd  we've  become." 

At  six  o'clock  Frothingham  was  idling  in  a  small 
smoking  room  in  the  rear  of  the  great  parlour — it  was 
on  the  second  floor.  Senator  Ballantyne  came  in  and 
grew  red  in  the  cheeks.  "  Oh,  I  didn't  expect  to  see 
you,"  he  said,  with  an  embarrassed  laugh. 

Frothingham  pretended  not  to  notice,  but  he 
instantly  saw  the  embarrassment,  and  the  cause  of  it 
as  well.  The  Senator  was  not  in  evening  dress,  nor 
even  in  his  uniform  of  "  statesman's  frock."  To  com 
bat  the  unfavourable  impression  his  great  castle  would 
make  upon  the  excursionists  from  his  distant  State 
he  had  got  himself  up  in  an  old  blue  sack  suit  with 
torn  pocket  and  ragged  cuff,  in  trousers  bagging  at 

[187] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

the  knees  and  springing  fantastically  where  they  cov 
ered  his  boot-legs. 

He  seated  himself  and  talked  absently  until  there 
was  a  ring  of  the  front  doorbell.  He  started  up. 
"  I  must  go,"  he  said.  "  That's  the  first  ones."  And 
he  hurried  away. 

Frothingham  waited  a  few  seconds,  then  went  into 
the  hall  and  leaned  carelessly  on  the  banister  where  it 
commanded  a  view  of  the  front  door.  He  chuckled. 
Not  the  pompous  and  liveried  butler  was  opening  it, 
but  Senator  Ballantyne  himself  in  his  impressive  liv 
ery  of  the  "  plain  people."  And  Frothingham 
grinned  as  his  great  hearty  voice — how  different,  how 
much  more  natural,  than  his  usual  voice — rolled  out  a 
"Why,  hello,  boys!  Hello,  Jim!  Hello,  Rankin. 
How  d'ye  do,  Mrs.  Fisher.  Glad  to  see  you,  Miss 
Branigan.  The  maid  wasn't  about,  so  I  thought  I 
wouldn't  keep  you  waitin'.  Come  right  in  and  take 
off  your  things.  Ladies,  I'm  sorry  to  say  my  wife's 
run  off  and  left  me — had  to  go  to  a  dinner  where  the 
President  and  his  wife  are  to  be.  You  know,  we  ain't 
allowed  to  decline.  But  we  won't  miss  her.  My  oldest 
girl  Sue's  in  the  parlour.  You  remember  Sue  ?  " 

They  all  went  into  the  "  parlour  " — that  is,  the 

[188] 


CHAPTER     ELEVEN 

little  first-floor  reception  room,  which  had  been  partly 
refurnished,  or  rather,  dismantled,  for  the  occasion. 
The  bell  rang.  Frothingham  chuckled  again,  as  he 
saw,  not  butler  nor  manservant  nor  Senator,  but  a 
neatly  dressed  upstairs  girl,  without  a  cap,  hasten  to 
open  the  door.  As  he  heard  the  rustle  of  skirts  on  the 
stairway  leading  to  the  sleeping  rooms,  he  prudently 
strolled  into  the  smoking  room. 

When  he  went  up  to  dress  Hutt  said  to  him :  "Beg 
pardon,  my  lord,  but  my,  it's  queer,  the  dinner  party 
they're  'avin  hin  the  little  back  room." 

Frothingham  went  on  shaving.  Hutt  took  silence  as 
permission  to  gossip. 

"  They've  sent  hoff  hall  the  servants,  hexceptin'  the 
maids,  my  lord.  They've  got  hevery think  on  the 
table  at  once  and  they're  waitin'  on  themselves." 

"  Last  night,"  said  Frothingham,  "  you  gave  me  a 
shirt  with  a  spot  on  the  collar.  You're  getting  care 
less  and  impudent,  Hutt." 

When  he  reached  the  parlour  Mrs.  Ballantyne  and 
Yscbel  were  waiting — Mrs.  Ballantyne  ablaze  with 
rubies  and  diamonds,  Ysobel  slim  and  white  and 
golden  in  an  expensively  plain  white  dress  with  golden 
spangles.  Mrs.  Ballantyne  rang  for  a  servant. 

[189] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

"  See  that  the  doors  leading  into  the  hall  downstairs 
are  closed,"  she  said. 

The  servant  returned  and  announced  that  the  way 
was  clear.  The  three  descended  the  grand  stairway 
rapidly,  entered  the  carriage,  and  drove  away — "  with 
two  on  the  box." 

Presently  Ysobel  laughed.  "  You  should  have 
seen  Susan,  Lord  Frothingham,"  she  said.  "  She  was 
rigged  up  in  a  black  alpaca  made  with  a  basque." 

"Alpaca?"  asked  Frothingham.  "What's  that? 
And  what's  a  basque?  " 

"  Alpaca  is — well,  it's  a  stuff  they  wear  out  West 
in  the  country  when  they  dress  up.  I  suppose  they 
wear  it  because  the  country  is  so  dusty,  and  black 
alpaca  catches  and  shows  every  bit  of  dust.  And 
when  you  touch  it  it  makes  your  teeth  ache  and  the 
gooseflesh  rise  all  over  you.  A  basque — it's  a  sort  of 
waist,  only  it's  little  and  tight  and  short  on  the  hips  and 
low  in  the  collar,  and  it  pulls  under  the  arms — I  can't 
describe  a  basque.  It  has  to  be  seen.  My  idea  of 
future  punishment  is  to  dress  for  a  thousand  years  in 
black  alpaca  made  with  a  basque,  and  to  have  to  rub 
your  hands  over  it  every  five  minutes." 

[190] 


XII 

POPE,  as  Mrs.  Ballantyne  explained  to  Froth- 
ingham,  was  an  Eastern  Senator  —  a  multi 
millionaire,  sent  to  the  Senate  because  he  prac 
tically  supported,  that  is,  "  financed,"  the  machine  of 
his  party  in  his  State,  besides  making  large  contribu 
tions  to  its  national  machine.  "  So  the  *  Boss,'  as  they 
call  the  leader  of  the  party  in  that  State,"  she  said, 
"  sold  Mr.  Pope  one  of  the  Senatorships,  keeping  the 
other  for  himself.  Mr.  Ballantyne  is  the  leader,  the 
master,  of  his  party  in  his  State  and,  while  he's  too 
modest  to  tell  it,  is  one  of  the  masters  of  the  party  in 
the  nation.  He  could  be  President  if  it  weren't  for 
the  disgusting  prejudice  among  the  people  against  all 
who  happen  to  have  a  little  something  "  —  "  a  little 
something  "  being  Mrs.  Ballantyne's  modest  way  of 
speaking  of  their  millions.  "  But,"  she  went  on,  "  old 
Mr.  Pope  is  a  nonentity.  He  sits  in  his  seat  and  votes 
the  way  they  tell  him  to  and  is  nice  to  everybody. 
Mr.  Ballantyne  suspects  he's  getting  ready  to  buy  the 
Vice-Presidency. 


" 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

"  How  much  does  that  cost  ?  "  asked  Frothingham. 

"  It  '11  cost  him  half  a  million  if  the  chances  of  our 
party's  carrying  the  election  are  good ;  if  they're  not 
so  good,  perhaps  he  can  get  it  for  a  quarter  of  a 
million.  But  they  may  not  dare  nominate  him. 
They  may  have  to  take  some  popular  poor  man.  The 
'  many-headed  monster,'  as  Shakespeare  calls  it,  has 
been  grumbling  of  late.  We  have  a  hard  task  in 
our  country,  Lord  Frothingham,  to  keep  the  people 
with  property  in  control." 

"  It's  the  same  all  over  the  world  nowadays,  I 
fancy,"  said  Frothingham.  "  One  has  to  apologise 
for  being  well  born  or  for  living  in  decent  style.  The 
trouble  with  the  lower  classes  at  home  is  that  they 
don't  have  to  work  hard  enough.  They  used  to  be 
too  busy  to  look  about  and  make  themselves  and  every 
body  uncomfortable  by  doing  what  they  call  think- 
ing." 

"  That's  the  trouble  with  our  lower  classes,  too," 
answered  Mrs.  Ballantyne,  in  her  grandest  manner. 
"  We  educate  too  much." 

The  carriage  rushed  into  the  brilliantly  lighted 
entrance  of  Senator  Pope's  house.  Frothingham  saw 
Ysobel's  face,  saw  that  she  was  having  a  violent  attack 

[192] 


CHAPTER    TWELVE 

of  silent  laughter.  And  he  understood  why.  "  The 
young  'un  has  a  sense  of  humour,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"  It's  ridiculous  for  these  beggars  to  pose  and  strut 
before  they've  had  time  to  brush  the  dirt  off  their 
knees  and  hands." 

As  they  entered  the  drawing  room  Frothingham's 
attention  riveted  upon  two  gilt  armchairs  ensconced 
in  a  semicircle  of  palms  and  ferns.  "  For  the  Presi 
dent  and  his  wife,"  said  Ysobel.  "  They're  dining 
here  to-night,  you  know.  This  is  the  first  President 
in  a  long  time  who  has  accepted  invitations  below  the 
Cabinet  circle.  He  comes  to  Senator  Pope's  because 
they're  old  friends.  It's  quite  an  innovation  and  has 
caused  a  great  deal  of  scandal.  But  I  don't  blame 
him.  Where's  the  use  in  being  President  if  you  can't 
do  as  you  please?  " 

Mrs.  Pope,  stout  and  red  and  obviously  "  flustered," 
came  bustling  up.  After  she  had  greeted  them  she 
said :  "  Lord  Frothingham,  you're  to  take  my 
daughter  Elsie  in  to  dinner."  Then  to  Mrs.  Ballan- 
tyne :  "  Oh,  my  dear,  why  didn't  you  warn  me  of  the 
quarrel  between  the  Cabinet  women  and  the  Speaker's 
family.  Whatever  shall  I  do?  Mrs.  Secretary  Man- 
don's  here,  and  so  are  the  Speaker  and  his  wife." 

[193] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

"  I'd  send  Grace  Mandon  in  ahead  of  the  Speaker's 
wife,  if  I  were  you,"  replied  Mrs.  Ballantyne.  "  I've 
no  patience  with  the  pretensions  of  the  House.  It's 
distinctly  the  commonest  branch  of  the  Government, 
while  the  Cabinet  is  next  to  the  President." 

"  But,"  objected  Mrs.  Pope  plaintively,  "  the 
Speaker  is  so  influential  and  really  fierce  about 
precedence,  and  his  wife  has  such  a  tongue  and 
such  a  temper,  and  neither  he  nor  she  ever  for 
gives." 

"  Do  as  you  like,  of  course,"  said  Mrs.  Ballantyne 
stiffly.  Being  of  the  Senate  it  exasperated  her  that 
the  House  should  be  placed  ahead  of  it. 

Just  then  a  murmur  ran  around  the  room — "  The 
President !  The  President ! "  Those  who  were 
seated  rose,  conversation  stopped,  and  the  orchestra 
began  to  play.  "  Bless  my  soul,"  muttered  Frothing- 
ham,  "  they're  playing  '  God  Save  the  King ' !  " 
And  then  he  remembered  that  the  Americans  had,  as  he 
put  it,  "  stolen  our  tune  and  set  a  lot  of  rot  about 
themselves  to  it."  The  President  and  his  wife  entered, 
he  frowning  and  red  and  intent  upon  the  two  gilt 
chairs.  Mrs.  Pope  curtsied,  her  husband  contracted 
his  stiff  old  figure  in  a  comical  half -salaam.  All  bent 

[194] 


CHAPTER    TWELVE 

their  heads  and  a  few  of  the  young  people,  among 
them  Ysobel,  curtsied. 

"  See  him  looking  at  those  chairs  ?  "  said  she  to 
Frothingham. 

Frothingham  nodded. 

"  He's  awfully  sour  at  the  etiquette  here,"  she  went 
on.  "  I  suppose  he's  afraid  the  country  '11  find  out 
about  it  and  cut  up  rough.  He's  smashing  right  and 
left,  and  everyone's  wondering  when  he'll  throw  out 
the  gilt  chairs." 

But  his  courage  apparently  failed  him,  for  he  and 
his  wife  advanced  to  the  "  thrones  "  and  seated  them 
selves.     No  one  else  sat,  the  men  moving  about  to  get 
the  partners  indicated  on  the  little  gilt-edged  crested 
cards  they  had  found  in  envelopes  addressed  to  them 
and  laid  upon  the  tables  in  the  coat-rooms.     Frothing 
ham  examined  Elsie  Pope  and  saw  that  she  was  small 
and  slight,  square  in  the  shoulders,  thin  in  the  neck, 
her  hair  of  an  uncertain  shade  of  brown,  her  eyes 
commonplace,    her    features    irregular.     "  She.  looks 
a  good-tempered  soul,"  he  said  to  himself,  searching 
resolutely  for  merits.     And  then  he  noted  that  her 
hands  were  red,  and  that  she  had  flat,  rather  wide 

wrists.     "  A  good,  plain  soul,"  he  added.     He  sat 

[195] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

silent,  waiting  for  her  to  begin  to  entertain  him — he 
hadn't  got  used  to  the  American  custom  of  the  men 
entertaining  the  women ;  and  the  New  York  and  Bos 
ton  women,  acquainted  with  the  British  way,  had 
humoured  him.  But  he  waited  in  vain.  At  last  he 
stole  a  glance  at  her,  and  noted  a  gleam  in  the  corner 
of  her  eye,  the  flutter  of  a  humour-curve  at  the  corner 
of  her  mouth.  "  A  shrewd  little  thing,  I  suspect,"  he 
thought.  And  he  said  to  her,  "  No — really,  I  don't 
bite." 

Her  eyes  twinkled.  "  I  was  beginning  to  be  afraid 
you  didn't  bark,  either,"  she  said. 

His  expression  retired  behind  his  eyeglass.  "  Nor 
do  I,  unless  I'm  bid." 

"  I  like  to  be  talked  to — I'd  so  much  rather  criti 
cise  than  be  criticised." 

"  What  do  you  like  to  hear  about  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  About  the  man  who's  talking.  It's  the  only  sub 
ject  he'll  really  put  his  heart  into,  isn't  it?  " 

Frothingham  smiled  faintly,  as  if  greeting  an  old 
and  not  especially  admired  acquaintance. 

"  I'm  so  disappointed,"  she  said  presently.  "  All 
winter  I've  had  the  same  man  take  me  in  everywhere — 
you  know,  we  follow  precedence  very  closely  here  in 

[196] 


CHAPTER    TWELVE 

Washington.  And,  when  I  found  I  was  to  have  a  new 
man,  I  had  such  hopes.  The  other  man  and  I  had 
got  bored  to  death  with  each  other.  And  now — 
you're  threatening  to  be  a  failure !  " 

Frothingham  did  not  like  this — it  was  pert  for  a 
woman  to  speak  thus  to  him;  he  resented  it  as  a  man 
and  he  resented  it  as  Lord  Frothingham.  "  That's  a 
jest,  ain't  it?"  he  drawled.  "We  English,  you 
know,  have  a  horribly  defective  sense  of  American 
humour." 

"  No,  it  wasn't  a  jest,"  she  replied.  "  It  was  a 
rudeness,  and  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  thought  to  say 
something  smart,  and — I  missed.  Let's  change  the 
subject.  Do  you  see  that  intellectual-looking  man 
with  the  beard  on  the  other  side  of  the  table — next  to 
Ysobel  Ballantyne?" 

"The  surly  chap?" 

"  Yes — and  he's  surly  because  mamma  has  made  a 
dreadful  mistake.  She's  put  him  two  below  the  place 
his  rank  entitles  him  to.  He'll  act  like  a  savage  all 
evening." 

"  Fancy !  What  a  small  matter  to  fly  into  a  rage 
over." 

"  A  small  matter  for  a  large  man,  but  a  large  mat- 

[197] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

ter  for  a  small  man.     Sometimes  I  think  all  men  are 
small.     They're  much  vainer  than  women !  " 

"  Why  do  you  say  that?  " 

"  Because  of  what  I've  seen  in  Washington.  They 
say  the  women  started  this  craze  for  precedence.  I 
don't  know  whether  that's  so  or  not.  But  I  do  know 
that  in  the  three  years  I've  been  out  I've  found  the 
men  worse  than  the  women.  And  those  things  look  so 
much  pettier  in  a  man,  too." 

"  But  I  thought  there  wasn't  any  rank  in  this 
country." 

"  So  I  thought — I  was  educated  in  France.  I  be 
lieve  in  rank  and  all  that — it  seems  to  me  absurd  to 
talk  about  equality.  But  I  despise  this  silly  squabble 
over  little  places  that  last  only  a  few  years  at  most. 
As  Mr.  Boughton  was  saying — you  know  Mr.  Bough- 
ton?" 

"  You  mean  the  Second  Secretary  at  our  Em 
bassy  ?  " 

"  Yes.  He  said  to  me  only  last  night :  '  America 
has  an  aristocracy  just  as  we  have,  but  gets  from  it  all 
the  evils  and  none  of  the  good,  all  the  pettiness,  none 
of  the  dignity  and  sense  of  responsibility.'  ' 

"  But    they  tell  me  it's  different— out  West" 

[198] 


CHAPTER    TWELVE 

61 1  don't  know.  I  can  only  speak  of  the  East — 
especially  of  Washington.  There  isn't  a  capital  in 
Europe  or  Asia,  the  diplomats  say,  with  so  elaborate 
a  system  of  rank  and  precedence  as  we  have.  Why, 
do  you  know,  it's  so  bad  that  the  fifteen-hundred- 
dollar-a-year  clerks  and  their  families  have  a  society 
of  their  own  between  the  circles  of  those  who  get 
eighteen  hundred  and  those  who  get  twelve  hundred. 
And  they'd  rather  die  than  mix  with  those  who  get 
less  than  they  do." 

"Really!     Really,  now!" 

"  And  anything  like  a  good  time  is  almost  impos 
sible.  It's  precedence,  precedence  everywhere,  always. 
You  can't  entertain  informally." 

"  It  must  be  as  if  one  were  laced  in  a  straight 
jacket." 

"  I'm  going  abroad  next  year  and  am  never  coming 
back,  if  I  can  help  it.  I'm  going  where  at  least  there's 
real  rank  to  get  excited  about.  I'll  go  with  Ysobel 
and  her  mother — unless  Ysobel  decides  to  marry  on 
this  side." 

Frothingham  was  internally  agitated,  but  gave  no 
sign  of  it. 

"  She's  marrying  either  Mr.  Boughton  or  that 

[199] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

handsome  Italian  sitting  next  to  Mrs.  Ballantyne — 
the  Prince  di  Rontivogli." 

"  Ah,"  said  Frothingham.  And  to  himself,  "  Just 
my  rotten  luck !  " 

"  She  makes  no  secret  of  it,"  continued  Miss  Pope, 
"  so  I'm  not  violating  her  confidence.  She  says  she's 
determined  to  marry  higher  than  her  sister  did.  She 
likes  Mr.  Boughton  better,  though  I  should  think 
she'd  prefer  the  Prince — his  face  is  ideal,  and  such 
manners!  But,  while  Mr.  Boughton  is  his  grand- 
uncle's  heir  and  his  granduncle  is  old  and  a  widower — 
still — well,  the  dukedom  might  slip  away  from  him. 
For  instance,  he  might  die  before  his  granduncle." 

"  That  would  be  ghastly  for  her,  wouldn't  it, 
now?  "  said  Frothingham. 

"  It  would  kill  poor  Ysobel.  She's  so  proud  and 
ambitious !  And  that's  why  she  has  an  eye  for  the 
Prince — he's  of  a  frightfully  old  family,  you  know. 
One  of  his  ancestors  tried  to  poison  Cesare  Borgia 
and  did  succeed  in  getting  himself  poisoned  or  smoth 
ered  or  something  thrilling.  And  they  were  an  old, 
old  family  then.  Oh,  Ysobel  is  flying  high.  If  her 
father  would  give  her  mother  and  her  a  free  hand,  I 
think  she'd  land  a  prince  of  some  royal  family." 

[200] 


7 


Cosimo,   Prince  di  Rontivogli 


CHAPTER    TWELVE 

Behind  his  mask  Frothingham  was  hastily  reform 
ing  his  line  of  battle.  The  Ballantyne  fortune  was 
apparently  inaccessible  to  an  attack  from  a  mere 
Earl;  but  he  could  keep  it  under  surveillance  while 
employing  his  main  force  against  the  Pope  citadel, 
which  seemed  to  be  inviting  attack.  He  did  not  fancy 
Miss  Pope — she  was  too  patently  conscious  of  her 
cleverness  and  it  was  of  a  kind  that  did  not  attract  him, 
was  not  what  he  regarded  as  feminine;  nor  was  she 
physically  up  to  his  standard  for  his  Countess-to-be. 
But — she  had  the  essential ;  and  he  had  been  in  Amer 
ica  nearly  five  months  and  had  had  two,  practically 
three,  failures. 

For  the  rest  of  his  two  weeks  at  the  Ballantynes'  he 
spent  as  much  time  as  he  courteously  could  with  Miss 
Pope.  And  when  he  joined  Joe  Wallingford  at  the 
New  Willard,  sharing  his  suite — and  paying  less  than 
a  third  of  the  expenses — he  was  with  her  a  large  part 
of  each  day,  driving  with  her,  riding  with  her,  lunch 
ing  where  she  lunched,  dining  where  she  dined,  danc 
ing  with  her,  walking  with  her,  sending  her  flowers. 
In  Boston  and  New  York  he  had  been  somewhat  hin 
dered  by  the  chaperon  system,  careless  though  it  was. 
Here  chaperoning  was  the  flimsiest  of  farces,  and  he 

[201  ] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

and  Elsie  were  together  almost  as  freely  as  if  she  were 
a  man. 

In  his  fourth  week  in  Washington  he  called  one 
afternoon  to  keep  an  engagement  to  walk  with  her  at 
half -past  four.  She  had  not  returned  from  a  girl's 
luncheon  to  which  she  had  gone.  At  ten  minutes  past 
five  she  came,  full  of  apology  for  her  delay — "  I 
really  couldn't  leave.  The  lunch  was  over  before 
three  o'clock,  but  the  Secretary  of  State's  daughter 
was  enjoying  herself  and,  though  we  were  all  furious 
with  her,  as  we  had  other  engagements,  she  wouldn't 
leave;  and,  of  course,  none  of  us  could  leave  until  she 
left.  When  she  did  finally  take  herself  away  the  Sec 
retary  of  the  Treasury's  daughter  had  given  up  her 
engagement  and  had  settled  herself  for  the  rest  of  the 
afternoon.  She  didn't  leave  until  ten  minutes  ago. 
So  there  we  were,  penned  in  and  forced  to  stay." 

"  Precedence  again  ?  "  said  Frothingham. 

"  Precedence.  It's  outrageous  that  those  two  girls 
should  show  so  little  consideration." 

"  I've  known  the  same  sort  of  thing  to  happen  at 
home,"  Frothingham  assured  her.  "  Once  when  I'd 
gone  to  a  house  only  for  dinner  I  had  to  stay  until 
half -past  four  in  the  morning.  The  Prince  of  Wales 


CHAPTER    TWELVE 

was  there,  and  he  was  just  then  mad  about  '  bridge.5 
He  insisted  on  playing  and  playing.  Several  of  us 
were  asleep  in  the  next  room — the  hostess  was  nodding 
over  her  cards." 

"  But  he  must  have  seen,"  said  Elsie.  "  Why 
didn't  he  take  the  hint?  " 

"  Well,  you  see,  the  poor  chap  led  such  a  deadly 
dull  life  in  those  days.  When  he  found  himself  hav 
ing  a  bit  of  fun  he  didn't  care  a  rap  what  it  cost 
anyone  else.  It's  a  mistake  to  bother  with  other 
people's  feelings,  don't  you  think?'1 

"  It  only  makes  them  supersensitive  and  hard  to  get 
on  with,"  replied  Elsie.  "  I  used  to  be  considerate. 
Now  I'm  considerate  only  when  it's  positively  rude 
not  to  be.  Besides,  I  must  expect  to  buy  my  way 
through  the  world.  I  never  had  any  friends — though 
I  used  to  think  I  had,  when  I  was  a  fool  and  didn't 
know  that  just  the  sight  of  wealth  makes  human 
beings  tie  up  their  good  instincts  and  turn  loose  the 
worst  there  is  in  them.  Even  when  rich  people  are 
friendly  with  each  other  it's  usually  in  the  hope  of 
getting  some  sordid  advantage." 

"  Do  you  apply  that  to  yourself  or  only  to 
others  ?  " 

[203] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

"  It  applies  to  me — it  has  applied  to  me  ever  since 
I  found  what  sort  of  a  world  I  was  living  in." 

"  I  don't  believe  it,  my  dear  girl,"  drawled  Froth- 
ingham,  the  more  convincingly  for  the  lack  of  energy 
in  his  tone.  And  he  gave  her  a  quick,  queer  look 
through  his  eyeglass  and  was  stolid  again. 

She  coloured  just  a  little.    "  Oh,  I  suppose  I'd  be  as 
big  a  goose  as  ever  if  I  should  fall  in  love  again." 
"Again?" 

She  laughed.  "  I've  been  in  love  four  times  in  the 
last  four  years,  and  almost  in  love  three  times  more. 
That's  a  poor  record  for  a  Washington  girl — there 
are  so  many  temptations,  with  all  these  fascinating 
foreigners  streaming  through.  But  I'm  not  counting 
the  times  I've  been  made  love  to  in  half  a  dozen  modern 
languages — I  and  my  father's  money." 

"  Possibly  you  were  unjust  to  some  of  the  men 
who've  said  they  admired  you.  They  may  not  have 
attached  so  much  importance  to  your  father's  money 
as — you  do." 

The  thrust  tickled  her  vanity — nature  had  given 
her  an  over-measure  of  vanity  to  compensate  for  her 
under-measure  of  charm.  She  looked  pleased,  though 

she  said :  "  I  don't  deceive  myself  as  to  myself." 

[204] 


CHAPTER    TWELVE 

"  A  man  might  have  been  attracted  to  you  because 
you  had  money,"  continued  Frothingham  dispassion 
ately,  "  and  might  have  stayed  on  for  your  own 
sake." 

Elsie  lifted  her  eyebrows.  "  Perhaps,"  she  said. 
"  I'll  admit  it's  possible." 

"  And,  honestly  now,  do  you  pretend  that  you'd 
marry  a  man  who  had  nothing  but  love  to  offer  you? 
What  has  attracted  you  in  the  men  you  thought  well 
of?  You  say  there  have  been  four — or,  rather,  four 
and  three  halves.  Has  any  one  of  'em  been  a  poor 
devil  of  a  nobody  ?  " 

Elsie  hesitated ;  in  the  twilight  he  saw  from  the  cor 
ner  of  his  eye  that  her  upper  lip  was  trembling. 
They  were  walking  near  the  tall,  white,  glistening 
monument,  in  the  quiet  street  that  skirts  the  grounds 
of  the  White  House.  "  One,"  she  said,  at  last,  in  a 
low  voice.  "  I  didn't  care  especially  for  him.  But 
sometimes  I  think  he  really  did  care  for  me — he  was  a 
wild,  sensitive  creature."  She  looked  at  Frothingham 
and  smiled.  "  And  when  I  get  in  my  black  moods  I'm 
half  sorry  I  sent  him  away." 

"But  you  did  send  him  away,  didn't  you?'5 
Frothingham's  expression  and  tone  were  satirical,  yet 

[205] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

sympathetic,  too.  "  And  you  complain  of  men  for 
being  precisely  as  you  are !  " 

"  I  hadn't  thought  of  that,"  she  admitted. 

"  I  take  it  for  granted  the  girl  who  consents  to 
marry  me  will  consent  because  she  wishes  to  be  a 
Countess."  He  drew  closer  to  her — she  looked  her 
best  in  twilight  hours,  and  he  succeeded  in  putting  as 
much  tenderness  into  his  voice  as  was  necessary  to 
enable  so  drawling  and  indifferent  a  person  to  create 
an  impression  of  sentiment.  "  If  I  were  walking  here 
with  the  girl  I  wished  to  win,  I'd  say  nothing  of  sen 
timent.  I'd  simply  trust  to  the  only  thing  I  have  that 
could  possibly  induce  her  to  listen  to  me." 

She  glanced  shyly  up  at  him — he  thought  her 
almost  pretty. 

"  Do  you  think  that  would  win  her?  "  he  asked  in  a 
low  tone. 

"  I — don't — know,"  she  replied  slowly.  Her  com 
monplace  voice  had  also  been  touched  with  the  magic 
that  had  transformed  her  face. 

"  Won't  you  think  of  it?  " 

"  If  you  wish,"  she  murmured. 

They  went  on  in  silence  a  few  minutes,  then  she 
spoke  in  an  attempt  at  her  usual  voice :  "  But  we 

[206] 


CHAPTER    TWELVE 

must  turn  back.     I'll  have  just  time  to  dress   for 
dinner." 

And  he  decided  that  he  would  say  no  more  on  the 
principal  subject  for  several  days.  He  thought  he 
understood  how  to  deal  with  American  girls  rather 
better  now.  "  I'll  give  her  a  chance  to  walk  round  the 
trap,"  he  thought.  And  then  he  reminded  himself 
that  it  was  hardly  a  trap — wasn't  she  getting  the 
better  of  the  bargain  ?  "  She's  indulging  in  a  luxury, 
while  I'm  after  a  desperate  necessary.  And,  by  Jove, 
it  won't  be  easy  not  to  make  a  face,  if  I  get  it — with 
her." 


[207] 


XIII 

SO  confident  was  he — and  so  out  of  conceit 
with  his  impending  success — that  he  took  a 
day's  vacation,  going  up  to  New  York  with 
Wallingford  to  attend  a  ball  for  which  Longview  had 
hired  half  of  Sherry's,  and  otherwise  to  amuse  himself. 
The  revisiting  of  the  scene  of  his  early  failure 
depressed  him;  he  lost  nearly  a  thousand  dollars  at 
Canfield's ;  he  borrowed  a  thousand  from  Wallingford ; 
he  returned  to  Washington  in  the  depths  of  the  blues. 
And  he  found  the  posture  of  his  affairs  completely 
changed. 

On  the  very  day  he  gave  Elsie  the  chance  to  become 
a  Countess,  Prince  Rontivogli  had  discovered  that 
Ysobel  Ballantyne  had  decided  that  she  was  suffi 
ciently  in  love  with  Boughton  to  take  the  risk  of  his 
not  succeeding  to  the  title.  Rontivogli  was  not  the 
man  to  waste  time  on  impossibilities — indeed,  he  had 
no  time  to  waste.  He  turned  away  from  the  beautiful 
Miss  Ballantyne  instantly,  and  with  all  the  ardour  of 

[208] 


CHAPTER     THIRTEEN 

his  fiery  Southern  nature  laid  siege  to  Elsie  Pope. 
And,  while  Elsie  was  somewhat  reserved  in  her  wel 
come,  he  found  an  ally  in  her  father,  who  thought  it 
would  sound  extremely  well  to  be  able  to  say,  "  My 
daughter,  the  Princess." 

Rontivogli  was  tall,  had  a  clear,  pallid  skin,  elo 
quent  black  eyes,  the  brow  and  nose  and  chin  of  an 
Italian  patrician,  the  manners  and  speech  of  chival 
rous  adoration  for  women  which  disguise  profound 
contempt  for  their  intelligence. 

When  Frothingham,  just  returned  from  New  York, 
and  still  enshrouded  in  surly  gloom,  drove  up  to  Pope's 
door,  he  saw  Rontivogli's  cabriolet  standing  a  few 
yards  down  the  drive.  Rontivogli  was  conducting 
himself  in  Washington  as  if  he  were  rich,  so  plausibly 
that  only  the  foreign  element  was  without  doubts  as 
to  the  object  of  his  visit  to  America.  At  sight  of  this 
trap  Frothingham  scowled.  "What's  that  Italian 
doing  here  ?  "  he  said  to  himself,  and  his  fear  answered 
the  question.  When  they  came  face  to  face  in  the 
parlour  Elsie  greatly  enjoyed  it.  The  Italian  was 
smooth  and  urbane ;  Frothingham,  careless  of  the  feel 
ings  of  a  man  he  despised  and  thoroughly  English  in 
his  indifference  to  the  demands  of  courtesy  to  Elsie, 

[209] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

was  almost  uncivil.  He  and  Elsie  talked  for  a  few  min 
utes,  then  she  drew  Rontivogli  into  the  conversation. 
The  Prince  answered  in  French,  and  French  became 
the  language.  Frothingham  spoke  it  far  worse  than 
Rontivogli  spoke  English,  so  he  was  practically  ex 
cluded.  He  sat  dumb  and  stolid,  wondering  why  "  the 
brute  hasn't  the  decency  to  take  himself  off  when  I 
came  last." 

But  "  the  brute  "  drew  Elsie  into  a  lively  discussion 
on  a  book  he  had  sent  her  and,  because  there  was  no 
break  in  the  argument,  was  seemingly  not  impolite  in 
lingering.  It  was  almost  an  hour  before  he  rose, 
kissed  her  hand,  gave  her  an  adoring  look,  said 
"  A  bientot,"  and  departed.  But,  although  he  was 
physically  gone,  he  was  actually  still  there — if  any 
thing  Frothingham  was  more  acutely  conscious  of  him. 

"  I  don't  believe  Miss  Ballantyne  could  stand  that 
fellow,"  he  said,  aware  of  his  tactlessness,  but  too 
angry  to  care.  "  I  think  all  those  Latins  unendur 
able.  They're  a  snaky  lot  and  their  manners  suggest 
waiters  and  valets." 

Elsie  flushed  and  slightly  drew  in  the  corners  of  her 
mouth,  a  sure  sign  that  her  temper  had  been  roused  in 
the  worst  way — through  wounded  vanity.  "  Oh,  you 

[210] 


CHAPTER     THIRTEEN 

British  are  so  insular,"  she  replied,  "  and  so  self- 
satisfied.  Here  in  Washington  we  learn  to  appreciate 
all  kinds  of  foreigners  and  to  make  allowances  even  for 
Englishmen  " — that  last  with  a  mere  veneer  of  good 
nature.  "  I  think  Rontivogli  charming.  He's  so  in 
telligent,  and  has  so  much  temperament." 

Frothingham  recovered  his  self-control  in  presence 
of  obvious  danger.  He  looked  calmly  at  her  through 
his  eyeglass.  "  Dare  say  you're  right,"  he  drawled. 
"  Rontivogli's  a  decent  enough  chap,  so  far  as  I  know, 
and  for  an  Italian  devilish  clean-looking." 

Elsie  had  no  intention  of  driving  him  off;  in  spite 
of  the  Italian's  superiority  in  title  and  "  tempera 
ment,"  she  preferred  the  Englishman — she  knew  him 
better  and  in  a  more  candid  way.  She  became  concili 
atory,  and  they  were  soon  amicable  again.  But  Froth 
ingham  saw  that  his  vacation  had  been  perilously 
costly,  that  he  must  work  to  reinstate  himself,  that  it 
was  not  a  wise  moment  for  reopening  the  matter  of 
the  engagement  which  only  four  days  ago  seemed  all 
but  settled.  He  found  that  Elsie  was  dining  at  the 
Italian  Embassy,  to  go  afterwards  to  a  ball  at  the 
Vice-President's  to  which  he  was  invited.  He  ar 
ranged  to  see  her  there  and  left. 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

Boughton  and  he  dined  together  at  the  Metropol 
itan  Club.  While  they  were  having  a  before-dinner 
cocktail  Boughton  told  him,  in  confidence,  that  he  was 
engaged  to  Ysobel  Ballantyne.  "  So  that's  why 
I  find  Rontivogli  poaching/'  thought  Frothing- 
ham.  And  he  said  presently :  "  What  do  you  know 
about  that  chap  Rontivogli?  He  looks  a  queer 


>un." 


"  Not  a  thing,"  replied  Boughton.  "  I  had  all  our 
fellows  writing  over  to  the  other  side,  following  him 
up.  The  answers  thus  far  show  nothing  downright 
shady.  He's  down  to  a  box  of  a  house  and  a  few 
acres  just  north  of  Milan.  And  that's  swamped  in 
mortgages.  No  one  knows  how  he  raised  the  wind  for 
this  trip.  He  seems  to  have  a  good  bit  of  cash,  doesn't 
he?" 

"  I'm  particularly  interested  in  knowing  about 
him,"  continued  Frothingham.  "  He's  developed  an 
astonishing  interest  in  a  girl  friend  of  mine.  I'd  hate 
to  see  her  taken  in  by  a  scamp.  And  I'm  sure  he's 
that." 

"  Oh,"  said  Boughton.     "  Miss  Pope?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Frothingham.  "  And  she  thinks 
well  of  him." 


CHAPTER     THIRTEEN 

"  I'll  be  glad  to  help  you,  old  man.  I  sha'n't  drop 
my  inquiry  as  I'd  intended." 

"  Thanks,"  said  Frothingham.  And  they  talked  of 
other  matters. 

When  he  looked  Elsie  up  at  the  Vice-President's 
that  night  for  the  first  of  the  dances  she  had  prom 
ised  him,  he  found  her  on  a  rustic  bench  in  the  garden, 
almost  screened  from  observation,  Rontivogli  beside 
her.  The  Italian's  classic  face  was  aglow,  and  Froth 
ingham  saw  that  he  had  checked  a  torrent  of  enam 
oured  eloquence.  He  saw,  also,  that  Elsie  was  not 
pleased  by  the  interruption.  However,  she  left  Ronti 
vogli  and  went  with  him.  As  they  entered  the  ball 
room  he  said :  "  I  don't  care  for  this  music,  do  you  ? 
Let's  sit  it  out.  Only  " — he  gave  her  a  look  of  quiet 
raillery — "  you  must  engage  not  to  go  back  to  your 
volcano  until  my  dance  is  over." 

"  Volcano  ?  ':  A  smile  of  pleased  vanity  strayed 
into  her  eyes  and  out  again. 

"  Yes — your  Vesuvius,  whose  eruption  I  was  brute 
enough  to  interrupt.  Beastly  of  me,  wasn't  it  ?  " 

"  Rontivogli  seems  to  annoy  you  a  great  deal." 

"  He?  Not  in  the  least."  And  his  tranquil  eye 
glass  affirmed  his  falsehood.  "  But  I  assure  you  he'll 

[213] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

spout  all  the  fiercer  for  the  interruption.  I  know 
those  Southern  chaps.  I  don't  wonder  we  stand  no 
show  against  'em.  I  tossed  the  sponge  as  soon  as  I 
saw  what  he  was  about." 

They  were  sitting  on  the  stairs  now  and  could  talk 
without  being  overheard.  "  Possibly  you  may  remem 
ber,"  he  went  on,  "  I  said  something  that  was  rather 
important  to  me — last  Thursday,  down  near  the  mon 
ument — at  half-past  six  precisely,  to  be  exact — I 
heard  a  clock  strike  as  I  finished.  Do  you  recall  it?  5! 

Elsie  was  puzzled  by  his  light,  satirical  tone. 
"  Yes,"  she  said.  "  I  do  vaguely  recall  that  you  said 
something  vague." 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  be  vague.  But  that  doesn't 
matter  now.  I  see  there's  no  chance  for  me — at  pres 
ent.  And  I  wished  to  say  to  you  that  at  least  I  shan't 
give  up  our  delightful  friendship.  No  matter  what 
you  do  with  your  Italian,  you'll  feel  that  I'm  your 
friend,  won't  you  ? ':  Frothingham  said  it  as  if  he 
meant  it ;  and  to  a  considerable  extent  he  did  mean  it 
— chagrined  though  he  was,  he  fancied  her  so  little 
in  the  role  he  had  invited  her  to  play  that  his  prospec 
tive  defeat  found  him  not  utterly  despondent.  He 
had  reasoned  out  his  course  carefully  and  had  come 


CHAPTER     THIRTEEN 

to  the  conclusion  that  his  chance  lay  in  posing  as 
her  disinterested  friend.  Perhaps  she  would  confide 
in  him,  would  give  him  the  opportunity  to  advise  and 
criticise — an  admirable  position  from  which  to  under 
mine  and  destroy  his  rival. 

As  Elsie  had  not  fully  made  up  her  mind  to  Ronti- 
vogli,  and  as  she  saw  nothing  but  advantage  to  her  in 
keeping  Frothingham  "  on  the  string,"  she  responded 
to  his  frank  and  manly  appeal.  And  she  believed 
what  he  said,  as  she  believed  pretty  much  everything 
men  told  her ;  and  she  liked  him  better  than  ever.  "  If 
he  were  only  a  prince,"  she  said  to  herself  regretfully, 
"  and  had  temperament." 

That  same  night  she  accepted  Rontivogli;  when 
Frothingham  came  to  lunch  the  next  day  she  told 
him.  "  Well,"  he  drawled,  "  I  can't  say  I'm  shouting 
glad.  But  I  can  honestly  congratulate  him.  And — 
I  hope  you  won't  regret." 

"  We're  not  announcing  the  engagement  for  several 
days,"  she  said. 

"  That's  good.  You  don't  mind  my  saying — you 
know  we've  agreed  to  be  friends — but  I  think  you — 
your  father  ought  to  make  careful  inquiry  about  him. 
I'm  sure  everything's  all  right,  but — it's  prudent." 

[215] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

Elsie  smiled.  "  Oh,  we  have  made  inquiries,"  she 
said.  "  Besides,  anyone  can  see  what  sort  of  man  he 
is — anyone  but  a  prejudiced  Englishman." 

"I  don't  deny  prejudice.  Is  it  surprising?'1 
And  he  gave  her  a  long  look  that  might  have  meant 
anything  or  nothing.  "  But — one  can't  be  too  care 
ful  about  foreigners." 

"  Foreigners  ! "  Elsie  laughed  with  good-hu 
moured  mockery.  "  And  what  are  you?  ' 

"  Why,  an  Englishman.  We  don't  count  as  for 
eigners  here." 

"  No — but  as— as  " — Elsie  had  "  poor  relations  " 
on  the  tip  of  her  tactless  tongue,  but  she  caught  it 
and  changed  it  to  "  step-brothers."  And  she  went 
on,  "  Which  is  much  more  suspicious." 

Frothingham  found  encouragement  in  her  willing 
ness  to  discuss  her  fiance  with  him — it  showed  plainly 
how  foreign  she  felt  to  Rontivogli,  how  friendly  to 
him.  A  few  afternoons  later — it  was  the  day  after 
the  dinner  at  which  her  engagement  was  formally 
announced — she  went  with  Frothingham  to  call  on 
"  Madame  Almansa  "  in  her  surroundings  of  Spartan 
simplicity.  They  found  Ysobel  and  Boughton  there 
also,  and  when  Ysobel  took  Frothingham  and  Bough- 

[216] 


CHAPTER     THIRTEEN 

ton  into  the  small  library  adjoining  the  smaller  draw 
ing  room  to  look  at  some  old  prints  "  Sue "  had 
brought  with  her  from  Spain,  Elsie  talked  with 
"Sue  "  of  the  engagement. 

Madame  Almansa  was  chary  of  congratulations, 
full  of  cautionings  and  doubts.  "  I  don't  wish  to 
cast  a  shadow  on  your  happiness,  dear — for  you  are 
happy,  aren't  you?  5: 

"  Indeed  I  am,"  replied  Elsie  convincingly — Ron- 
tivogli  was  an  ideal  lover ;  he  could  even  sing  his  mad 
passion  in  a  voice  that  was  well-trained  and  thril 
ling. 

"  But — you  know  my  sad  experience."  Madame 
Almansa  sighed  like  Medea  thinking  on  the  treachery 
of  Jason.  Her  glance  fell  upon  the  engagement  ring. 
She  took  Elsie's  hand.  "  How  beautiful !  "  she  ex 
claimed.  "  I  love  emeralds  and  that  is  a  magnificent 
one.  And  only  a  tiny  flaw." 

Elsie  coloured  with  annoyance.  "  I  think  you  are 
mistaken,"  she  said.  "  It's  a  perfect  stone." 

"  Certainly  it  is  perfect,  dear,"  replied  Madame 
Almansa  in  her  superior,  informative  tone.  "  Perfect 
for  an  emerald.  But,  you  know,  there  are  no  emeralds 
of  size  anywhere  in  the  world  that  haven't  flaws.  At 

[217] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

least,  I  never  heard  of  one.  Emeralds  are  valuable  in 
spite  of  their  flaws." 

Elsie  coloured  again,  this  time  with  annoyance  at 
having  exposed  her  ignorance. 

"  A  superb  setting,"  continued  Madame  Almansa. 
"  It  must  be  very,  very  old.  I  love  that  kind  of  set 
ting — beautifully  engraved,  dull  gold.  The  only  ob 
jection  is  that  it's  the  best  kind  for  deceiving  one  as 
to  genuineness,  isn't  it?  One  could  not  tell  whether 
that  stone  was  genuine  or  imitation.  You  know,  they 
make  such  wonderful  imitations.  When  I  was  going 
out  in  the  world  I  had  all  my  best  jewels  reproduced 
in  imitation  stuff,  and  usually  I  wore  the  imitation. 
One  felt  so  much  safer." 

Elsie  drew  her  hand  away,  smiling  sweetly.  She 
was  inwardly  raging — "The  cat!"  she  said  to  her 
self.  "  Clawing  me  viciously,  and  purring  as  if  she 
hadn't  a  claw." 

She  left  in  a  few  minutes,  Rontivogli  calling  for 
her.  To  relieve  her  feelings,  and  also  because  she  was 
in  the  habit  of  saying  nearly  everything  that  came 
into  her  head,  she  told  him  what  Madame  Almansa 
had  said,  making  vigorous  comments  as  she  related. 

Rontivogli,  half  turned  toward  her  as  they  sat  side 


CHAPTER     THIRTEEN 

by  side  in  her  victoria,  regarded  her  with  his  luminous 
smile.  "  That  is  the  way  of  the  world,  ma  belle  et 
bonne"  he  said  in  his  gentlest  manner.  "  It  is  diffi 
cult  to  harden  one's  self  to  such  wickedness.  But 
there  is  also  much  that  is  beautiful  and  fine.  And  we 
— you  and  I — will  shut  everything  else  out  of  our 
lives,  will  we  not?  " 

He  made  her  feel  unworthy,  almost  "  common," 
when  he  talked  in  that  fashion — she  realised  painfully 
that  she  was  sadly  lacking  in  "  temperament,"  and 
she  dreaded  that  he  might  find  her  out. 

"  The  ring,"  he  went  on,  "  has  been  in  the  family 
for  eight  hundred  years — perhaps  longer.  It  is  un 
changed.  No  question  of  its  genuineness  has  ever 
been  raised,  so  far  as  I  know.  We  are  not  so  suspi 
cious  as  some  of  you  Americans." 

"  She  didn't  question  it's  genuineness,"  replied 
Elsie.  "  She  simply  wished  to  make  me  uncomfortable 
with  a  malicious  insinuation.  Or,  maybe,  she  was 
just  talking.  It  was  silly  of  me  to  tell  you." 

He  protested  that  he  was  not  disturbed.  But  he 
seemed  unable  long  to  keep  off  the  subject,  returning 
to  it  as  the  cleverest  habitual  liar  will  fatuously  return 
to  his  unquestioned  lie  to  weaken  it  by  trying  further 

[219] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

to  bolster  it  up.  So  persistent  was  he  that  he  at  last 
made  her  uneasy — not  that  she  suspected  him,  or  was 
conscious  of  having  been  disturbed  by  his  unnecessary 
reassurances.  The  next  morning  she  went  down  to  a 
jeweller's  in  Pennsylvania  Avenue — she  had  other 
business  there  and  thought  it  her  sole  object  in 
going,  forgetting  that  she  had  intended  to  send  her 
mother.  She  discussed  several  proposed  purchases 
with  the  manager,  whom  she  knew  well.  As  she  talked 
she  had  her  elbows  on  a  show  case,  and  her  ungloved 
hands  clasped  so  that  the  ring  was  in  full  view — 
curiously,  it  was  not  on  the  engagement  finger.  He 
noted  it,  thought  she  wished  him  to  speak  of  it,  be 
cause  as  she  exhibited  it  she  often  glanced  at  it. 

"  Would  you  mind  letting  me  look  at  that  beauti 
ful  ring?  "  he  asked. 

"  Certainly."  She  drew  it  off  with  some  nerv 
ousness,  gave  it  to  him,  and,  as  he  looked,  watched 
him  and  it  alternately  with  vague  anxiety. 

"  A  very  old,  a  very  quaint  setting,"  he  said,  "  and 
a  fine " 

He  paused ;  her  mouth  was  dry  and  her  skin  hot. 

"  A  fine  stone — a  beautiful  stone,"  he  continued. 
"  One  of  the  finest  I  ever  saw.  The  flaw  is  slight." 

[220] 


CHAPTER     THIRTEEN 

Elsie  drew  a  long  breath — she  felt  an  unaccount 
able  sense  of  relief.  The  manager  took  his  glass,  went 
to  the  window,  and  studied  the  stone  and  the  setting. 
"  I'm  glad  to  hear  you  say  the  stone's  genuine,"  said 
she,  now  admitting  to  herself  that  Madame  Alman- 
sa's  poison  had  been  lurking  far  down  in  her  mind. 
"  Someone  doubted  it,  and  as  it  was  important  to  me 
to  know,  I  intended  to  ask  you." 

"  In  that  case,"  said  the  manager,  "  I  feel  it's  my 
duty  to  tell  you  the  stone's  an  imitation." 

Elsie  grew  rigid  and  cold  from  amazement  and 
rising  horror. 

"  A  good  imitation,"  continued  the  manager,  intent 
upon  the  stone,  "  but  unquestionably  not  genuine. 
The  setting  makes  it  additionally  deceptive." 

"  How  much  is  the  ring  worth?  "  she  asked,  gath 
ering  herself  together  heroically. 

"  Well — the  stone,  of  course,  is  worthless — a  few 
dollars.  But  the  setting  is  old  and  quite  beautiful. 
It  might  bring  a  hundred  or  so  from  a  collector  if  it 
hit  his  fancy  and  had  an  authentic  history.  If  the 
stone  were  genuine,  the  ring  would  be  worth  about — 
five  thousand,  I  should  say,  as  a  rough  guess." 

"  Fortunately,  I  haven't  bought  it  yet,"  she  said 

] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

carelessly.  And  she  took  it  from  him  and  put  it — in 
her  pocketbook.  "  The  stone  seems  to  have  been  un 
disturbed  in  that  setting  for  a  long  time,"  she  added, 
as  she  closed  the  pocketbook. 

"  Oh,  there's  no  telling  as  to  that.  It  was  manu 
factured  by  the  newest  process.  It  has  been  only 
two  or  three  years,  I  believe,  since  they  learned  to 
put  in  the  flaws  so  cleverly.  They  make  them  very 
well  in  New  York  now." 

"  Thank  you  so  much,  Mr.  Macready,"  said  Elsie. 
"  You  won't  say  anything  about  it,  will  you?  " 

"  You  needn't  have  asked  that,  Miss  Pope,"  an 
swered  Macready  with  a  reproachful  smile. 

"  Thank  you  again,"  she  said.  It  was  not  until  she 
was  driving  away,  that  her  cheeks  began  to  burn 
fiercely  and  the  hot  tears  of  shame  and  anger  to  scald 
her  eyes. 


XIV 

SHE  went  straight  to  her  father  with  the  whole 
story.  He  listened  sitting  at  his  desk,  balancing 
a  broad  ivory  paper-cutter  on  his  forefinger.  She 
felt  much  better  when  she  had  finished;  her  anger 
seemed  to  have  been  carried  off  in  her  words. 

After  a  long  silence  her  father  said :  "  What  do  you 
wish  to  do?  " 

She  looked  foolish.  "  I  don't  know,  papa,"  she 
said  feebly.  "  What  do  you  think  we  ought  to  do?  '! 

"  He  may  have  been  honestly  deceived." 

"  But  Mr.  Macready  said " 

"  That  was  merely  his  offhand  opinion,"  he  inter 
rupted.  "  They've  been  making  imitation  jewels  of 
all  kinds  for  years.  I  know  the  Italians  have  long 
been  clever  at  it." 

Elsie  was  silent.  She  could  not  help  remembering 
Rontivogli's  stupid,  over-crafty  reiterations.  She 
knew  that  he  knew. 

"  And,"  continued  her  father,  examining  the  paper- 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

cutter  critically,  "  there  isn't  the  slightest  doubt  as  to 
the  genuineness  of  Prince  Rontivogli  himself." 

Another  long  silence  during  which  neither  father 
nor  daughter  showed  the  slightest  curiosity  as  to  what 
thoughts  the  other's  face  might  be  revealing. 

"  Even  if  he  did  wilfully  deceive  in  this  —  not  vitally 
important  —  matter,"  continued  the  aspirant  for  a 
princess-daughter,  "  I  can  imagine  many  extenuating 
circumstances.  It  isn't  the  young  man's  fault  that 
he's  poor.  It  isn't  unnatural  that  he  shouldn't  wish 
to  expose  his  poverty  —  especially  if  he  "  —  the  Sena 
tor's  face  took  on  a  smile  of  fatherly  benevolence  — 
"  happened  to  care  for  the  young  lady.  *  All's  fair 
in  love  and  war,'  you  know.  And  we  must  not  judge 
harshly  those  who  have  less  than  we  have.  Still  -  " 

Rontivogli's  "  temperament  "  was  vigorously  rein 
forcing  his  title  in  repairing  the  havoc  the  false  jewel 
had  played  with  him  in  Elsie's  mind.  He  had  been 
a  convincing  lover  ;  Elsie  had  too  much  vanity  and  too 
much  desire  to  be  loved  madly  not  to  be  a  credulous 
young  woman.  "  I  don't  know  what  to  do,  papa," 
she  said  in  the  tone  that  proclaims  a  decision  reached 
and  a  wish  for  support  in  it. 

Perhaps,"  replied  the  Senator  slowly,  the  person- 


" 


7    can    imagine    many    extenuating    circumstances' 


CHAPTER     FOURTEEN 

ification  of  forgiving  charity,  "  it  might  be  best  to 
let  the  matter  drop." 

"  But  I  simply  can't  wear  the  ring !  I'd  feel 
such  a  fraud,  and  I'd  soon  be  disliking  him,  though 
this  may  not  be  at  all  his  fault.  Besides,  someone 
might " 

"  That  could  be  easily  arranged."  Her  father's 
eyes  twinkled — he  was  preparing  to  treat  the  discov 
ered  deception  as  a  little  private  joke  on  the  prince 
between  his  daughter  and  himself.  "  We  can  get 
Tiffany  to  set  an  emerald  in  the  ring.  No  one  will 
know.  And  some  day  you  can  tease  him  about  it.  If 
he  is  innocent  it  would  mortify  him  to  learn  the  truth 
now,  wouldn't  it  ?  " 

Elsie  smiled  somewhat  cheerfully.  She  was  trying 
hard  to  make  herself  doubt  the  prince's  guilty  knowl 
edge.  "  It  must  be  done  right  away,"  she  said. 

She  wore  her  gloves  that  afternoon.  But  Ronti- 
vogli,  with  nerves  like  a  sensitive  plant's  leaves,  felt 
a  change  in  her,  hard  though  she  tried  to  seem  un 
changed.  In  the  clear  light  of  hind-sight  he  had 
been  cursing  himself  for  saying  so  much  to  her  of 
Madame  Almansa's  insinuations ;  and  at  first  he  feared 
that  by  his  blundering  he  had  roused  suspicion  in  her. 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

But  she  showed  that  she  was  still  in  the  mood  to  marry 
him,  and  the  negotiations  for  settlements  went 
smoothly  on  between  Senator  Pope's  lawyer  and  the 
attorney  to  the  Italian  Embassy,  whom  he  had  en- 
aged  to  represent  him.  He  dismissed  his  fear  as  a 
wild  imagining  of  guilt  and  set  himself  to  remove  the 
coolness  just  under  Elsie's  surface  of  warmth  by  lav 
ishing  his  "  temperament  "  upon  her.  And  he  was  re 
warded  with  swift  success.  A  flaw  in  such  a  lover  was 
as  inconsequential  as  a  flaw  in  an  emerald — and  was 
it  not  as  much  a  matter  of  course? 

Toward  the  end  of  the  week  she  went  with  her  father 
to  New  York,  and  in  two  days  Tiffany  changed  the 
setting  for  a  consideration  of  four  thousand  eight 
hundred  dollars.  She  returned  fully  restored — but 
she  kept  the  false  stone,  hid  it  far  back  in  the  bottom 
of  her  jewel-safe. 

The  shock  and  its  after-effects  were  soon  over.  She 
was  a  little  astonished  that  she,  so  used  to  the  quaint 
ways  of  foreigners,  should  have  attached  importance 
to  the  quaintness  of  this  foreigner — a  lover  who  was 
fiery  and  infatuated,  a  lover  who  sang,  a  lover  who  was 
a  Prince  of  a  "  house  "  that  ruled  and  plotted  and 
patronised  the  arts  when  Europe  beyond  the  Alps  was 


CHAPTER     FOURTEEN 

a  savage  wilderness.  Rontivogli  had  not  been  study 
ing  women  for  twenty  years — or  ever  since  he  was 
eighteen — aided  by  a  classic  face,  a  classic  figure,  a 
classic  name,  and  classic  recklessness,  without  learn 
ing  thoroughly  the  business  he  was  now  follow 
ing. 

Frothingham  had  ceased  to  hope,  and,  for  lack  of 
any  other  opening,  was  arranging  to  go  to  Chicago, 
there  to  visit  his  steamer  friend  Barney,  whom  he  had 
not  permitted  to  forget  him — Barney  had  a  marriage 
able  daughter  and  was  rated  at  eleven  millions;  also, 
Chicago  was  reputed  to  be  a  promising  field  for  titled 
foreigners.  He  felt  that  he  was  neglecting  business 
in  lingering  at  Washington.  He  saw  no  signs,  heard 
no  news,  of  available  rich  girls  or  rich  men's  daugh 
ters.  Half  a  dozen  questions  about  any  girl  and  he 
would  get  an  answer  that  would  force  him  to  strike 
her  from  his  list — the  father  was  opposed  to  large 
settlements ;  the  family  was  opposed  to  international 
marriages;  the  family's  social  ambitions  were  of  the 
new  cis- Atlantic  kind;  the  daughter  was  already 
engaged;  the  mother's  aim  was  for  princely  or  ducal 
rank.  And  he  was  kept  in  low  spirits  by  the  spectacle 
of  the  triumphant  Rontivogli  and  was  exasperated  by 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

Elsie's  treating  him  as  an  object  of  pity,  a  rejected 
and  inconsolable  lover. 

As  he  sat  alone  in  a  corner  of  the  club,  staring 
with  grim  satire  into  the  ugly  face  of  his  affairs,  upon 
him  intruded  a  man  whom  he  had  often  described  as 
the  most  viciously  tiresome  person  he  had  ever  met — 
Count  Eitel  zu  Blickenstern.  He  disliked  Blicken- 
stern  because  he  was  a  German ;  he  avoided  him  because 
he  was  dull,  because  he  was  a  chronic  and  ingenious 
borrower  of  small  sums  of  money,  and  because  every 
remark  that  seemed  to  him  to  have  been  intended  hu 
mourously  was  hailed  by  him  with  a  loud,  mirthless 
laugh — the  laugh  of  those  who  have  no  notion  of  wit 
or  humour  and  fear  their  deformity  will  be  discovered. 

Frothingham  had  first  met  Blickenstern  in  the 
Riviera,  where  he  was  living  on  the  last  lees  of  toler 
ance.  He  would  have  cut  him  when  he  ran  across  him 
in  New  York  had  he  not  found  him  in  high  favour 
with  the  women  who  dominated  fashionable  society. 
They  admitted  Blickenstern  as  they  admitted  almost 
any  of  the  few  available  men  with  no  occupation  but 
idleness.  They  needed  escorts,  attendants,  fetch-and- 
carry  men ;  Blickenstern  was  idle  and  willing,  was  big 
and  always  well  dressed,  was  useful  to  do  the  hard 


CHAPTER     FOURTEEN 

work  of  arranging  an  entertainment  once  it  had  been 
planned.  And  his  noisy  convulsions  flattered  those 
unaccustomed  to  having  their  jokes  appreciated. 

Frothingham's  cold  stare  did  not  disturb  Blicken- 
stern,  born  insensible  to  mental  temperatures.  He 
posed  for  a  moment  to  give  Frothingham  a  chance  to 
admire  his  fashionable  array  of  new  light  grey  frock 
suit,  white  spats,  orchid  in  buttonhole,  and  dark  red 
tie;  then  he  dropped  upon  the  lounge  with  the  good- 
natured,  slightly  condescending  greeting  he  gave  men 
when  he  had  money  in  his  pockets.  He  explained 
that  he  had  come  the  night  before  in  a  private  car  with 
a  party  of  distinguished  New  Yorkers  who  had  to 
testify  before  a  Senate  committee.  "  And,  do  you 
know,"  said  he — his  English  was  idiomatic  American 
and  almost  without  accent,  "  the  first  person  I  ran  into 
was  that  Italian  scalawag,  Rontivogli." 

Frothingham's  eyeglass  glistened;  otherwise  he  did 
not  change  expression.  "  D'  you  know  'im? ':  he 
asked  languidly.  "  What  '11  you  drink?  " 

"  Brandy  and  soda,"  replied  Blickenstern.  "  Know 
'im?  Rather!  I'm  responsible  for  him  in  this  coun 
try.  He  landed  without  a  friend  and  the  people  he 
had  letters  to  shut  the  door  in  his  face — they  don't 

[229] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

fancy  Italians  in  New  York.  I  introduced  him  round 
and  got  him  in  everywhere.  And,  by  gad,  he  not  only 
refused  to  pay  a  note  he  gave  me,  but  when  I  met  him 
here  last  night  he  stared  at  me  as  if  he'd  never  seen  me 
before." 

"Rough,  wasn't  it?" 

Blickenstern  laughed  cheerfully,  without  a  trace  of 
irritation.  Insults  did  not  disturb  him ;  he  had  killed 
one  man  and  had  wounded  several  in  duels,  but  he 
fought  only  because  it  was  the  "  proper  thing  for  a 
gentleman  " — and  respect-inspiring  in  certain  coun 
tries  and  in  certain  circumstances.  "  I'm  off  for  home 
next  week,"  he  said,  "  never  to  return  to  this  bounder- 
land.  I  think,  just  before  I  go,  I'll  get  the  face  value 
of  that  note  and  interest — and  not  in  money,  either." 

Blickenstern  had  several  drinks  "  on  "  Fro  thing- 
ham — half  a  dozen  in  as  rapid  succession  as  Frothing- 
ham  could  induce.  But  he  refused  to  disclose  his  pro 
posed  revenge,  only  chuckled,  "  I'll  bet  the  dago  '11 
leave  on  the  first  steamer  after  I  sail." 

Frothingham  got  Boughton  to  attempt  Blicken 
stern,  and  Boughton  not  only  tried  it  himself,  but 
also  put  at  work  a  friend  of  his  in  the  German  Em 
bassy.  Blickenstern,  however,  would  not  go  beyond 


77Z  give  the  guinea  one  more  chance' 


CHAPTER     FOURTEEN 

wagging  his  big  blond  head  and  saying,  "  Wait !  I 
don't  want  to  spoil  the  fun."  The  military  attache  at 
the  German  Embassy  was  with  him  when  he  met  Ron- 
tivogli  again.  "  I'll  give  the  guinea  one  more  chance," 
said  he,  overflowing  with  good-nature  as  always  when 
he  had  drunk  to  excess.  It  was  the  office  of  the  Shore- 
ham,  and  Rontivogli  was  on  his  way  out ;  Blickenstern 
bore  down  upon  him,  caught  him  by  the  lapel. 

"  I'm  giving  you  your  last  chance,  Cosimo,"  he 
said.  "  You'd  better  pay  up." 

"  If  you  don't  take  your  hands  off"  me,"  exclaimed 
Rontivogli  in  French,  "  I'll  have  you  put  into  the 
street."  The  look  in  his  black  eyes  suggested  the  glit 
ter  of  a  stiletto. 

Blickenstern  shook  him  gently.  "  If  you  don't  pay 
that  note,"  he  replied  with  unruffled  good  nature,  "  I'll 
publish  it  and  the  contract  also.  I'm  leaving  the  coun 
try,  and  don't  care  what  they  think  of  me  here.  But 
you — I  hear  you're  about  to  marry  ?  " 

Rontivogli  grew  yellow  under  the  bronze  of  his 
clear,  pale  skin.  "  I  tell  you,  I  can't  pay  the  note. 
You  know  it.  You  drove  me  out  of  New  York  with 
your  dogging  and  dunning  me.  In  a  few  weeks  I  can 
pay,  and  will." 

[231] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

"  Yes — when  you're  married."  Blickenstern 
laughed  loudly  and  not  hollowly — here  was  a  joke  he 
could  see.  "  What  do  you  think  I  am — an  imbecile  ? 
Don't  I  know  that  as  soon  as  you're  married  you  can 
snap  your  fingers — and  will  ?  " 

Rontivogli  disengaged  himself  and  readjusted  his 
close-fitting  coat.  "  I'm  certain  you  will  not  lay  your 
self  liable  to  arrest  for  blackmail,"  he  said  with  calm 
contempt,  and  went  on  to  his  carriage. 

Blickenstern  looked  after  him,  nodding  and  laugh 
ing.  "  Just  wait ! "  he  said,  addressing  his  fellow- 
German,  and  including  the  curious  loungers  in  the 
office. 

Frothingham  searched  for  Blickenstern — he  had  a 
vague  idea  of  taking  him  to  call  at  the  Popes'.  But  he 
could  not  find  him.  He  did  see  Rontivogli,  however 
— one  glance  was  enough  to  tell  him  that  Blick- 
enstern's  threats  had  devoured  his  high  spirits  and 
were  eating  into  his  courage.  He  waited  impatiently 
for  the  explosion — a  five-days'  wait,  for  it  did  not 
come  until  the  following  Tuesday.  That  morning, 
as  Hutt  went  out  of  his  bedroom  after  fixing  his  bath, 
Joe  Wallingford  called  from  their  common  sitting 
room: 


CHAPTER    FOURTEEN 

"  You're  awake,  aren't  you?  '! 

"  Almost,"  answered  Frothingham. 

"  Then  just  read  that."  He  flung  a  newspaper 
through  the  crack  in  Frothingham's  door  onto  his 
bed. 

Frothingham  took  the  paper  and  instantly  caught 
the  names  of  Rontivogli  and  Blickenstern  in  the  larg 
est  headlines.  He  began  eagerly  upon  a  three-column 
article,  the  most  of  it  under  a  New  York  date  line. 

"  Ain't  that  cruel?  "  caUed  Wallingford.  "  Ain't 
it  a  soaker  ?  " 

"  Um,"  replied  Frothingham,  too  busy  to  pause. 

It  was  an  account  of  a  suit  brought  by  Blicken 
stern  against  Rontivogli  to  collect  a  note  for  twenty- 
five  hundred  dollars.  The  "  sensation  "  lay  in  a  docu 
ment  which  Blickenstern  had  attached  to  the  note  and 
had  filed  with  the  papers  in  the  suit — a  contract,  read 
ing: 

I,  Cosimo  di  Rontivogli,  hereby  agree  to  pay  Count  Eitel  zu 
Blickenstern  twenty-five  hundred  dollars  as  soon  as  he  has  intro 
duced  me  to  the  persons  whose  names  are  written  upon  the  back 
of  this  contract  in  my  handwriting.  And  I  further  agree  to  pay 
him  an  additional  twenty-five  hundred  dollars  within  one  month 
after  I  become  engaged  to  an  American  lady,  whether  or  not  I 
am  introduced  to  her  by  him.  And  I  further  agree  to  pay  him 
an  additional  ten  thousand  dollars  within  three  months  after  my 

[233] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

marriage  with  an  American  lady,  whether  or  not  he  introduced 
me  to  her. 

(Signed)     COSIMO  DI  RONTIVOGLI. 


This  contract,  the  newspaper  said,  was  in  Ronti- 
vogli's  autograph,  and  was  witnessed  by  two  clerks  at 
the  Holland  House ;  on  the  back  of  the  contract,  and 
also  in  Rontivogli's  autograph,  were  the  names  of 
fifteen  fashionable  and  rich  New  York  women.  Froth- 
ingham  glanced  at  the  names — he  knew  the  bearers  of 
most  of  them — and  hastened  on  into  Blickenstern's 
interview.  "  In  Europe,"  he  had  said  to  the  reporter, 
"  I  should  call  the  fellow  out  and  kill  him.  Here, 
where  the  duel  does  not  exist,  I  must  take  the  only  re 
dress  open  to  me  for  his  betrayal  of  my  friendship. 
I  asked  him  to  pay  only  the  note.  In  fact  he  owes  me 
five  thousand,  as  he  is  now  engaged  to  a  Washington 
heiress.  He  is  a  black  rascal.  If  you  will  send  to 
Milan  you  can  get  a  fine  tale  of  how  he  happened  to 
come  to  your  country.  I  owe  all  my  American  friends 
an  apology  for  introducing  him.  I  confess  with 
shame  that  but  for  me  he  would  have  known  no  one." 

The  article  went  on  with  an  account  of  Rontivogli's 
engagement  to  "  Miss  Elsie  Pope,  one  of  the  best 
known  young  women  in  Washington,  Philadelphia, 


CHAPTER     FOURTEEN 

and  New  York  society,  the  only  daughter  of  Senator 
John  C.  Pope,  reputed  to  be  the  third  richest  man  in 
the  Millionaires'  Club,  as  the  Senate  is  called."  Then 
followed  Rontivogli's  sweeping  denial,  and  his  denun 
ciation  of  the  Prussian  as  a  "  blackmailer,"  a  "  notori 
ous  card-sharp,"  a  "  thorough  scoundrel." 

When  Frothingham  finished  he  said,  "  Gad,  what 
a  facer  for  Miss  Pope !  " 

"  Isn't  it,  though?  "  replied  Wallingford.  "  And 
for  her  father.  I  always  blame  the  fathers." 

"  But  I  thought  it  was  the  mothers  who  hankered 
after  European  marriages,"  said  Frothingham. 

"  That's  what  is  usually  said,"  Wallingford  an 
swered,  "  because  only  the  mothers  appear  in  the  pub 
lic  part  of  the  business.  But  who  gives  up  the  money 
for  the  settlements  ?  The  women  ain't  a  nose  ahead  of 
the  men  in  the  race  of  snobbishness.  Poor  little  Elsie 
Pope!  This  ought  to  be  a  lesson  to  our  girls 
against " 

He  paused  abrubtly  and  reddened,  though  Froth 
ingham  could  not  see  him.  "  I  almost  forgot  that 
Frothingham's  one  of  'em,"  he  said  to  himself. 

Frothingham  was  grinning  in  the  seclusion  of  his 

bedroom.     "  I  should  say  so ! "  he  exclaimed  in  his 

[235] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

drawling,  satirical  voice.  "  Wonder  what  the  Milan 
yarn  is  ?  >! 

He  learned  in  a  few  hours,  for  the  Washington 
afternoon  papers  had  a  long  Associated  Press  despatch 
from  Milan.  Rontivogli,  heavily  in  debt  and  ruined, 
had  been  backed  by  a  syndicate  of  his  creditors  for  an 
American  tour  in  search  of  an  heiress.  They  had 
risked  in  the  venture  forty  thousand  lire  and,  within  a 
month,  an  additional  twenty  thousand.  They  re 
garded  it  as  a  by  no  means  desperate  investment  for 
the  recovery  of  the  very  large  sum  which  Rontivogli 
had  got  out  of  them  before  they  discovered  his  finan 
cial  plight — certainly  with  such  a  title  and  so  much 
personal  beauty  and  charm  he  could  win  the  daugh 
ter  of  one  of  the  multitude  of  rich  men  among  those 
title-crazy  American  vulgarians.  The  Milan  despatch 
set  forth  that  the  correspondent  had  had  no  difficulty 
in  getting  the  facts,  as  "  everyone  here  knows  the 
story.  The  formation  of  such  syndicates  is  said  to 
be  common  in  England,  France,  Germany,  Austria, 
and  Italy,  and  many  of  them  have  been  successful." 

"  Poor  Frothingham !  "  Wallingford  thought  as  he 
read.  "  This  is  bad  for  his  business.  I  fancy  it  '11  be 
many  a  day  before  I  see  my  thousand  again."  And 

[236] 


CHAPTER    FOURTEEN 

then  he  delicately  gave  Frothingham  a  hint  that  if  he 
needed  another  thousand  he  could  have  it.  But  Froth 
ingham  didn't  need  it  just  then — and,  it  should  be  set 
down  to  his  credit,  he  would  have  hesitated  long  before 
taking  it,  had  he  needed  it.  Wallingford  was  not 
wrong  in  thinking  there  had  been  since  he  met 
Frothingham  a  marked  decline  in  his  "  honour  as  a 
gentleman,"  and  a  marked  rise  in  his  "  honour  as 


a  man." 


Rontivogli  went  to  the  Popes'  at  eleven  o'clock  that 
morning.  The  look  of  the  flunky  who  opened  the  door 
foreshadowed  to  him  his  fate.  He  was  shown  not 
into  the  drawing  room,  but  into  a  reception  room — 
a  small  alcove  to  the  left  of  the  door,  intended  for 
wraps  rather  than  for  callers.  The  servant  returned 
with  a  package  on  his  tray.  "  Miss  Pope  is  not  at 
'ome,"  he  said  haughtily,  omitting  the  customary 
"  Your  'Ighness,"  and  not  even  substituting  so  much 
as  a  "  Sir  "  for  it,  "  and  she  left  this  to  be  given  to 
you." 

Rontivogli  ignored  the  impudences  of  omitting  his 
title  and  of  addressing  him  as  "  you,"  and  took  the 
package.  The  servant  held  aside  the  portiere  with 
the  broadest  possible  hint  in  his  face  and  manner. 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

"  Tell  Senator  Pope  that  the  Prince  di  Rontivogli 
wishes  to  see  him,"  said  Rontivogli  in  a  tone  which  at 
once  reduced  the  servant,  in  spite  of  himself,  from  a 
human  being  to  a  mechanical  device  for  the  transmis 
sion  of  messages. 

When  he  hesitatingly  withdrew  Rontivogli  opened 
the  package — his  ring  with  the  stone  unset  and  loose 
in  the  box.  He  solved  the  puzzle  almost  as  soon  as  it 
was  presented  to  him.  He  scowled,  then  gave  a  short, 
sneering  laugh,  put  the  lid  on  the  box,  and  thrust  it 
into  the  tail  pocket  of  his  frock  coat. 

Senator  Pope  received  him  in  his  study,  rising  and 
bowing  without  advancing  or  extending  his  hand. 
He  was  serious,  but  bland — he  did  not  know  how  to  be 
brusque,  or  even  unkind  in  manner ;  he  did  know  how 
to  be  diplomatic. 

"  I  have  come,  sir,  to  repel  the  lies  of  that  infamous 
Prussian,"  began  Rontivogli  with  suppressed  passion. 

"  You  will,  I  trust,  not  distress  me  with  the  painful 
subject,"  said  Pope  slowly  and  gently.  "  We  know 
that  the  Count  has  maligned  you.  But  you,  as  a  gen 
tleman,  must  appreciate  how  terrible  the  notoriety  is 
to  us  all.  I  assume  that  you  have  come  to  relieve  the 
young  lady  of  the  embarrassment  of  the  situation." 

[238] 


CHAPTER    FOURTEEN 

Rontivogli  lost  control  of  himself,  raved,  paced  the 
floor,  pleaded,  denounced,  threatened  even.  But  Pope, 
sympathetic  and  in  the  proper  places  tenderly  sorrow 
ful,  pressed  in  upon  the  Prince  his  and  Elsie's  un 
changeable  determination.  At  last  Rontivogli  gave 
up  the  useless  battle  and  drew  the  box  from  his  pocket. 
"  Your  daughter,"  he  said,  "  sent  me  by  a  servant 
this  broken  ring.  The  stone  has  been  removed  and 
to  my  astonishment  I  find  that  a  false  emerald  has  been 
substituted."  His  voice  and  manner  were  apologetic, 
deprecatory,  as  if  Senator  Pope  owed  him  an  explana 
tion  which  he  was  loath  to  demand. 

He  opened  the  box  and  exhibited  its  contents  to 
Pope,  who  looked  with  polite  interest.  "  The  stone 
has  become  detached,"  was  all  he  said. 

"  But  why  was  it  not  returned  to  me  ?  "  asked  Ron 
tivogli.  "  Why  this  false  emerald  in  its  place?  " 

"  It  is  the  same  stone,"  said  Pope.  His  tone  was 
absent,  as  if  he  were  thinking  of  something  else. 

"  It  is  not !  "  Rontivogli's  voice  was  bold  and  hard, 
a  covert  threat  in  it. 

They  looked  each  the  other  straight  in  the  eyes — 
Pope  inquiringly,  the  Prince  defiantly.  Then  Pope 
said :  "  Ah !  Excuse  me  one  moment." 

[239] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

He  left  the  room,  muttering  as  he  reached  the  hall, 
"  The  miserable  swindler !  He  knows  we  won't  have 
any  further  scandal,  no  matter  what  it  costs."  When 
he  returned  he  had  in  his  hand  the  emerald  he  and 
Elsie  had  bought  at  Tiffany's.  He  laid  it  on  the  cor 
ner  of  the  desk  nearest  the  nobleman. 

"  This  is  a  genuine  emerald,"  he  said,  his  voice 
neither  hot  nor  cold.  "  You  may  take  it — if  you 
like." 

"  I  thank  you,"  replied  the  nobleman  with  a  slight 
bow  of  acknowledgment,  as  if  a  wrong  to  him  had 
been  righted. 

He  put  the  emerald  and  the  ring  in  his  waistcoat 
pocket;  he  put  the  box,  with  the  false  emerald  in  it, 
on  the  corner  of  the  desk  exactly  where  Senator  Pope 
had  laid  the  genuine  stone.  Then  he  went  on,  in  a 
way  that  was  the  perfection  of  courtesy :  "  May  I  pre 
sume  further  on  your  kindness  ?  This  German  cur  has 
placed  me  in  a  distressing  position.  I  wish  to  leave 
America  at  once,  to  return  where  a  gentleman  can 
not  be  thus  attacked  without  defence.  Unfortu 
nately "  He  hesitated  with  a  fine  affectation  of 

delicacy. 

Senator  Pope's  eyes  were  more  disagreeable  to  look 

[240] 


CHAPTER    FOURTEEN 

at  than  any  human  being  had  ever  before  seen  them. 
"  I  shall  be  glad  to  give  you  any  reasonable  assist 
ance,"  he  said  with  resolute  self-control. 

"  You  are  most  kind !  "  Rontivogli  was  almost  ef 
fusive.  "  I  shall  return  any  advance  you  may  make 
as  soon  as  I  am  at  home." 

"  How  much?  "  asked  Pope  with  a  trace  of  im 
patience. 

"  I  have  many  obligations  which  must  be  settled  be 
fore  I  leave.  I  had  just  cabled  for  a  remittance,  but 
I  wish  to  go  before  it  can  arrive.  Might  I  trouble  you 
for  an  advance  of,  perhaps,  five  thousand — I  think 
that  will  be  enough." 

Senator  Pope  unlocked  and  opened  a  drawer,  took 
out  a  flat  package  of  bills.  "  Here  is  a  thousand  dol 
lars,"  he  said.  "  I  cannot  advance  you  more.  And  I 
trust  you  will  sail  the  day  after  to-morrow."  He 
looked  hard  at  the  Prince.  "  That  will  spare  me  the 
necessity  of  making  a  private  appeal  to  the  Italian 
Embassy  through  our  State  Department." 

"  You  are  most  kind,  mon  cher  Senator,"  replied 
Rontivogli. 

He  put  the  package  of  bills  in  the  inside  pocket  of 
his  coat.  He  reflected  a  few  seconds,  then  took  his  top 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

hat.  "  Will  you  do  me  the  honour  of  presenting  my 
compliments  and  regrets  to  Madame  Pope — and  to 
Mademoiselle?  "  he  said  with  steady  eyes  and  elabo 
rate  politeness.  "  I  thank  you  again.  I  regret  that 
we  part  in  circumstances  so  unhappy.  I  shall  send 
your  little  advance  within  the  month." 

He  bowed  profoundly,  and  Senator  Pope  inclined 
his  head.  He  went  to  the  door,  turned  there,  bowed 
again.  "  Au  revoir,  my  dear  Senator,"  he  said  cor 
dially,  and  was  gone — a  fascinating  patrician  figure 
of  handsome  ease  and  dignity. 


XV 


FROTHINGHAM  let  three  days  pass,  and  on 
the  fourth  called  at  Senator  Pope's.     Elsie  was 
in  Philadelphia — was  visiting  an  aunt.     It  had 
not  occurred  to  him  that  she  would  run  away  and  hide 
herself,  so  little  did  he  think  of  the   matter   in   any 
other  light  than  that  of  a  game  between  himself  and 
Rontivogli.     He  was  much  upset,  and  did  not  know 
what  move  to  make  next.    Fate  helped  him  the  even 
ing  of  the  same  day — the  mail  brought  a  note  from 
Elsie: 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND: 

I  can't  help  writing  to  thank  you.  You  warned  me,  and  you 
were  good  and  kind  about  it,  and  I  was  very  disagreeable.  I 
should  like  to  say  so  to  you,  but  I  don't  suppose  you'll  be  in 
Philadelphia,  will  you  ?  And  it  will  be  many  a  day  before  I  see 
Washington.  Indeed,  I  hope  I  shall  never  see  it  again.  I  didn't 
deserve  your  friendship.  E.  W.  P. 

Frothingham  had  not  reflected  on  this  letter  long 
before  he  was  telling  Hutt  to  get  his  belongings  to 
gether.  The  next  afternoon  found  him  at  the  Belle- 
vue  in  Philadelphia,  and  a  few  hours  later  he  was  din- 

[243] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

ing  at  the  Hopkins'  with  Elsie  and  her  uncle  and 
aunt.  He  liked  the  Hopkinses — stiff  and  shy,  but 
kindly.  He  liked  the  dark  furniture,  and  walls  and 
woodwork,  suggesting  old  English;  liked  the  faces  in 
the  family  portraits — English  faces;  liked  surround 
ings  where  there  was  nothing  new  or  new-fashioned 
except  his  own  and  Elsie's  dress,  where  there  was  so 
much  that  was  fine  as  well  as  old.  And  he  had  never 
liked  Elsie  so  well  as  now  that  she  was  chastened  into 
an  appealing  gentleness  and  humility. 

He  saw  that  he  had  been  right  in  thinking  her  note 
an  apology,  and  an  attempt  to  recall  him.  And  when 
the  Hopkinses  left  them  alone  in  the  parlour  after 
dinner  he  soon  said :  "  I've  come  for  an  answer  to  that 
question  I  asked  you — down  by  the  monument." 

She  hung  her  head  and  flushed  deeply.  "  Oh,  I 
wish  to  get  away  from  all  this,"  she  said  in  a  low 
voice.  "  I'll  be  glad  to  go  far  away — far  as — as  you 
care  to  take  me." 

He  sat  beside  her  and  took  her  hand.  But  he  made 
no  effort  to  show  "  temperament."  "  I'll  go  back  to 
Washington  and  see  your  father  to-morrow — if  you 
wish,"  he  said,  after  a  silence. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied. 


CHAPTER    FIFTEEN 

She  wrote  a  long  letter  to  her  father  as  soon  as 
Frothingham  was  gone — her  maid  posted  it  at  mid 
night.  So  it  came  to  pass  that  Senator  Pope  was  ex 
pecting  him.  He  received  him  with  the  benign  court 
esy  he  gave  to  the  humblest  negro.  He  liked  Froth 
ingham — but,  for  that  matter,  it  was  impossible  for 
him  to  dislike  any  member  of  the  human  race,  even 
Rontivogli,  or  any  well-disposed  domestic  animal ;  ever 
since  he  had  "  gathered  his  bunch,"  his  content  and 
complacence  had,  with  a  few  brief  pauses,  been  bub 
bling  over  in  words  and  acts  of  kindness.  But  when 
Frothingham  said,  "  I've  come  to  see  you,  sir,  about 
something  of  which  I  and  your  daughter  have  been 
talking,"  his  face  clouded  with  a  look  of  apologetic 
distress — almost  the  same  look  as  that  with  which 
he  had  received  Rontivogli  for  the  final  inter 
view. 

Frothingham  would  not  have  attributed  it  to  em 
barrassment  had  he  known  Senator  Pope  better.  It 
was  the  look  he  wore  whenever  the  exigencies  of  fate 
forced  him  to  do  anything  unpleasant — whether  to 
refuse  a  small  favour,  or  to  cut  a  rival's  throat,  or  to 
scuttle  a  financial  or  political  ship.  For,  being  a  good 
man,  and  a  lover  of  smoothness,  it  pained  him  exceed- 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

ingly  to  cause  his  fellow-beings  any  other  emotion 
than  happiness.  In  the  present  instance  the  cause  of 
his  distress  was  the  discovery  that  an  alliance  with  no 
bility  would  destroy  his  chances  for  the  Vice-Presiden 
tial  nomination  which  he  was  plotting  to  get.  He  had 
not  confided  his  ambition  to  his  closest  political  lieu 
tenant.  But  when  Rontivogli  was  exposed  and  cast 
out,  his  colleague  and  boss  had  said  to  him :  "  I'm 
glad  to  hear  you're  not  going  to  take  a  foreign 
nobleman  into  your  family,  Senator.  Until  the  en 
gagement  was  announced  we  were  hoping  you  could 
be  induced  to  make  the  race  for  the  Vice-Presidency. 
While  an  Italian  wouldn't  have  been  as  bad  as  an 
Englishman  on  account  of  the  Irish  vote,  I  don't  think 
the  party  would  have  stood  for  even  an  Italian.  The 
people  don't  like  that  sort  of  thing." 

That  settled  Senator  Pope's  aristocratic  ambi 
tions. 

"  I've  come,  sir,"  Frothingham  was  saying,  "  to  ask 
your  consent  to  marrying  your  daughter." 

Senator  Pope's  eyes  swam,  so  strong  was  his  emo 
tion.  "  I  am  highly  honoured,  Lord  Frothingham. 
But  I  cannot  give  you  an  answer  in  so  important  a 
matter  at  once.  I  must  consult  with  her  mother." 


CHAPTER    FIFTEEN 
Mrs.  Pope  was  a  shadowy  nonentity,  flitting  nervously 
in  the  wake  of  father  and  daughter. 

He  detained  Frothingham  for  a  long  talk  on  Eng 
land  and  America,  and  sent  him  away  in  an  almost 
jubilant  mood — no  applicant  ever  left  him  downcast. 
The  next  day  Frothingham  got  a  telegram  from  Elsie 
asking  him  to  come  to  her  as  soon  as  he  could.  He 
assumed  that  her  father  had  decided  to  convey  his  con 
sent  through  her,  and  his  spirits  rose  higher.  But  the 
first  glimpse  of  her  disturbed  him — hers  was  not  the 
face  of  a  bearer  of  good  news. 

"  I  saw  your  father,"  he  began. 

"  Yes,"  she  interrupted.     "  He  has  written  me." 

"  Does  he  consent?  " 

"  Yes  and  no."  She  hesitated.  "  He  asked  me  not 
to  tell,  but  I  know  I  can  trust  you.  He  has  been  plan 
ning  to  be  nominated  for  Vice-President.  And  he  has 
found  that  he  can't  have  the  nomination  if  I  marry  a 
titled  foreigner — especially  an  Englishman,  because 
of  the  Irish.  They  say  it  would  kill  the  ticket." 

Frothingham  retreated  behind  a  vacant  look. 

"  He  found  it  out  only  a  few  days  ago."  She  did 
not  feel  equal  to  telling  him  that  her  father  had 
learned  this  fatal  fact  through  the  exposure  of  Ron- 

[247] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

tivogli.  "  So,"  she  ended,  "  we  couldn't  marry  until 
after  the  election.  For  he  says  he's  sure  of  the  nom 
ination." 

"  And  when  is  this  election  ?  " 

"  A  year  from  next  fall." 

Fortunately  Frothingham  had  not  the  habit  of  let 
ting  his  face  speak  for  him.  After  a  pause  he  said: 
"  But  surely  you  can  persuade  him." 

"  It's  useless  to  try.  You  don't  know  him  as  I  do. 
He  seems  yielding,  and  usually  he  is.  But  where  he's 
set  he's  hard  as  granite." 

"  Nearly  two  years,"  he  repeated.  And  to  himself : 
"  Impossible !  I  might  weather  six  months,  but  two 
years — the  creditors  would  laugh  at  me." 

"  And  I  wish  to  go  away  at  once,"  she  said  with  a 
long  sigh,  looking  at  him  mournfully. 

"  I — we — can't  wait  two  years,"  he  replied. 

"  We  needn't,  need  we?  We  might "  she  be 
gan,  then  halted,  blushing  vividly. 

He  pretended  not  to  understand — though  he  did, 
for  he  had  already  thought  of  that  plan. 

"  You  know — I'm  of  age,"  she  went  on,  seeing  that 
he  was  not  going  to  help  her  out.  "  We — we  needn't 
wait  for  his  consent."  He  did  not  change  expression, 

[248] 


CHAPTER    FIFTEEN 

but  he  was  saying  to  himself,  "  Here's  a  mess.  She's 
so  mad  to  get  away  that  she's  ready  to  do  anything." 

"  I  think  he'd  forgive  us,"  she  went  on.  "  But  even 
if  he  didn't,  I'd  never  regret." 

He  knew  that  he  must  say  something,  must  say  it 
quickly,  and  that  it  must  be  appreciative  but  noncom 
mittal.  "  I  couldn't  accept  such  a  sacrifice,"  he  said. 
"  It  wouldn't  be  decent  to  take  advantage  of  you  in 
that  fashion.  I  know  it  sounds  unromantic  to  say  it, 
but,  by  Jove,  I  don't  go  in  for  the  sort  of  romance  that 
makes  a  fellow  a  blackguard."  And  he  frankly  told 
enough  of  his  financial  difficulties  to  make  the  situation 
clear  to  her.  "  I  believe  you  can  talk  your  father 
round,"  he  ended.  "  He  thinks  the  world  of  you." 

Elsie  smiled — melancholy  and  cynical.  "  Yes — so 
long  as  I  don't  interfere.  But  I  know  how  he  feels 
about  the  Vice-Presidency.  And  that — that  other 
affair  has  made  him "  She  shook  her  head. 

This  chilled  Frothingham.  "  He'd  never  forgive 
her  if  she  ran  off  with  me  and  lost  him  the  office,"  he 
reflected.  "  Besides,  I  can't  afford  to  go  in  without 
settlements  arranged  beforehand.  I  must  chuck  it — 
quick  as  ever  I  can." 

He  urged  persuading  her  father,  and  she  promised 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

to  try.  He  saw  her  the  next  day,  and  the  next,  both 
afternoons  and  evenings.  On  the  third  day  he  did  not 
see  her  until  late  in  the  afternoon — her  father  had 
come  from  Washington,  and  had  spent  the  morning 
with  her.  And  while  they  were  talking  Frothingham 
was  reading  a  letter  from  Honoria  which  had  been 
languidly  pursuing  him  for  a  week.  Part  of  it  was : 

I  think  you  met  Cecilia  Allerton  in  Boston.  Had  you  heard 
of  her  bolting  with  Frank  Mortimer  ? 

"  Frank  Mortimer !  "  he  exclaimed,  sitting  upright 
in  bed  in  his  astonishment.  "  That  brute  with  the 
big  teeth  and  the  empty  head !  " 

Her  father  was  angry  with  her  for  something  or  other  and 
Created  her  cruelly.  Everyone  was  pitying  her.  Frank  fell  in 
love  with  her  out  of  sympathy,  and  she  was  so  miserable  that, 
when  her  father  wouldn't  consent,  she  ran  off  with  him.  Mr. 
Allerton  has  changed  his  will,  they  say,  leaving  everything  to 
colleges  and  charities.  But  Frank  has  an  income  and  will  have 
more  when  his  uncle  dies,  and  she  has  a  rich  aunt  who  loathes 
her  father,  and  so  may  leave  her  something. 

Cecilia's  quite  mad  about  Frank,  now  that  they're  married. 
Willie  Kennefick  was  dining  with  us  last  night.  He  says  she  was 
in  love  with  Stanley  Huddiford,  who  died  a  year  or  so  ago.  He 
says  she  believes  Stanley's  soul  has  entered  into  Frank !  She's  a 
clever  girl,  they  say,  but  a  bit  eccentric,  like  so  many  of  them 
down  Boston  way 

Frothingham  looked  on  this  news  as  a  direct,  provi- 

[250] 


CHAPTER    FIFTEEN 

dential  warning  to  him.      "  I'll  take  no  risks  with 
Pope,"  he  said.    "  It  would  be  sheer  madness." 

And  before  he  left  his  rooms  he  wrote  to  Barney, 
fixing  the  next  day  but  one  for  his  arrival  at  Chicago. 
He  felt  that  there  was  no  hope  of  winning  Pope — at 
least  not  at  present.  "  If  she  by  chance  succeeds  after 
I'm  gone — and  I'll  leave  her  in  a  good  humour — I  can 
easily  return.  But  I  know  there's  nothing  in  it." 

Failure  was  mourning  in  her  eyes  when  he  called  at 
five  o'clock.  They  went  for  a  walk,  and  in  reluctant 
words  she  told  him  that  her  father  was  immovable,  that 
their  only  choice  was  between  disobeying  him  and 
breaking  the  engagement.  She  listened  coldly  while 
he  explained  his  position  again ;  when  he  had  finished 
she  sneered.  "  You  are — unanswerable,"  she  said  bit 
terly. 

"  No  doubt  I  do  lack  *  temperament,'  "  he  drawled, 
an  ironic  gleam  on  his  eyeglass. 

She  was  humble  at  once.  "  Oh — I  understand,"  she 
answered. 

But  she  was  too  heartsick  to  talk;  and  he  forgot 
that  he  was  walking  with  her,  could  only  feel  ruin's 
arm  linked  firmly  in  his.  It  was  dusk  when  they 
reached  the  house. 

[251] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

In  the  doorway  he  took  her  hand  and  held  it. 

"  I  shall  see  you  when  I  return  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Will 
you  answer  if  I  write  now  and  then  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  replied  gratefully. 

She  sent  away  the  servant  who  came  at  her  ring. 
She  detained  Frothingham,  hoping  against  reason  and 
instinct  that  he  would  tear  off  that  tranquil  mask  of 
his,  would  forget  his  responsibilities  as  the  bearer  of  a 
proud  and  ancient  name,  would  say :  "  I  care  for  only 
you.  Come ! "  Even  after  he  had  left  her  she  lin 
gered,  holding  the  door  ajar,  listening  for  returning 
footsteps.  At  last  she  shut  the  door,  and  went  for 
lornly  and  wearily  to  her  great,  lonely,  sombre  dress 
ing  room.  She  stood  before  the  mirror  of  her  dress 
ing  table,  studying  her  plain,  wistful,  woeful  little 
face.  "  You  aren't  pretty,"  she  said  to  it,  with  that 
candour  which  has  its  chance  in  those  rare  moments 
when  vanity  is  quite  downcast.  "  And  one  can't  ex 
pect  much  when  men  think  of  nothing  but  looks  in  a 
woman."  She  could  no  longer  see  herself  for  tears. 
"  And  I  believe  he'd  have  been — at  least  kind  to 
me." 

She  rang  for  her  maid,  and  began  listlessly  and 
mechanically  to  dress  for  dinner. 


XVI 

A1  Chicago  Barney  came  down  the  platform  to 
meet  Frothingham.  "  Here  you  are !  "  he  ex 
claimed.  "  Six  months  in  the  country,  but  not 
a  bit  changed.  And  if  an  American  goes  over  to  your 
side  and  stays  a  week  he  has  to  learn  the  language  all 
over  again  when  he  gets  back." 

It  was  still  daylight,  and  Barney  told  his  coachman 
to  drive  home  by  way  of  "  the  store  " — the  great 
"  Barney  and  Company  Emporium — seventy  stores 
and  a  bank,  three  restaurants,  a  nursery,  and  an  emer 
gency  hospital,  all  under  one  roof."  Frothingham 
watched  the  throngs  pouring  torrent-like  through  the 
canons  made  by  the  towering  buildings.  "  Don't  it 
remind  you  of  New  York  ?  "  asked  Barney. 

"  Yes — and  no,"  he  replied.  It  seemed  to  him  in 
the  comparison  that  New  York  was  a  titanic  triumph, 
Chicago  a  titanic  struggle ;  New  York  a  finished  or  at 
least  definite  creation,  Chicago  a  chaos  in  convulsion. 
There  was  in  the  look  and  the  noise  of  it  an  indefinable 

[253] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

menace  which  oppressed  him,  filled  him  with  vague  un 
easiness.  When  Barney  told  him  the  site  of  it  was  a 
swamp  a  few  years  before,  he  thought  of  a  fairy  story 
his  nurse  had  told  him — of  a  magic  city  that  used  to 
rise  from  an  enchanted  morass  at  dusk,  live  a  single 
night,  and  vanish  with  the  dawn.  And  as  the  day 
light  waned,  he  wondered  whether  this  inchoate,  vol 
canic  unreality  of  a  city  would  not  soon  be  again  en 
gulfed  in  the  bosom  of  its  mother,  the  swamp.  But 
he  began  to  note  here  and  there  traces  of  form,  civil 
ised  form,  peering  from  the  chaos  to  indicate  the 
trend  of  the  convulsion — that  it  was  upward,  not 
downward. 

"  It  is  tremendous,"  said  Frothingham.  "  Is  it 
bigger  than  New  York?" 

"  No,"  Barney  reluctantly  answered.  Then  he 
added  with  curious,  defiant  energy :  "  But  it  will  be ! 
And  it's  American,  which  New  York  ain't.  It's  full  of 
people  that  think  for  themselves,  and  do  as  they 

d n  please.  We  ain't  got  many  apes  out  here. 

We  run  more  to  humans." 

They  were  now  driving  past  Barney  and  Company's 
• — a  barrack-like  structure,  towering  story  on  story 

from  a  huge  base  bounded  by    four    streets,    where 

[254] 


CHAPTER     SIXTEEN 

surged  a  seemingly  insane  confusion  of  men,  women, 
children,  horses,  vans,  automobiles,  articulate  in  the 
demoniac  voices  of  boys  shrieking  extras  and  drivers 
bawling  oaths.  And  the  sky  blackened  suddenly,  and 
from  the  direction  of  the  lake  came  a  storm,  cruelly 
cold,  bitter  as  hate,  seizing  the  struggling,  swearing, 
shouting  mass  of  men  and  animals,  lashing  it  with 
whips  of  icy  rain,  and  pelting  it  with  bullets  of  hail. 

"  That's  my  little  place,"  said  Barney,  pride  ooz 
ing  through  his  offhand  tone. 

"  It's  tremendous,"  was  all  Frothingham  could  say. 
The  "  Emporium  "  and  its  surroundings  dazed  him. 
He  muttered  under  his  breath,  "  And  it's  Hell." 

Barney  told  the  story  of  creation  as  it  read  for  him. 
He  had  been  a  drummer  for  a  suspender  house — 
eighteen  hundred  a  year  for  touring  the  cities  and 
towns  of  northern  Indiana  and  Illinois;  four  thou 
sand  dollars  put  by  after  twelve  years  of  toil;  eyes 
ever  alert  for  a  chance  to  go  into  business  on  his  own 
account.  One  of  his  towns  was  Terre  Haute — he  called 
it  Terry  Hut.  In  it  was  a  dry-goods  shop  kept  by  a 
man  named  Meakim.  Barney  found  that  of  all  the  re 
tailers  he  visited,  Meakim  was  by  far  the  shrewdest, 
the  most  energetic,  and,  above  all,  that  he  had  an 

[255] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

amazing  talent  for  "  dressing  "  his  show  windows  and 
show  cases.  He  persuaded  Meakim  to  sell  out  and  ad 
venture  Chicago  with  him.  They  set  up  in  a  small 
way,  and  in  an  obscure  corner.  But  both  toiled ;  Bar 
ney  was  shrewd  and  almost  sleepless,  and  Meakim 
"  dressed  "  the  windows  and  displayed  the  goods  on 
and  over  the  counters.  They  prospered,  spread  too 
rapidly  for  their  capital,  failed,  gathered  themselves 
together,  prospered  again.  "  I've  built  three  stores 
in  fourteen  years,"  said  Barney.  "  This  last  one  was 
finished  only  five  years  ago — the  year  Meakim  died. 
And  already  it's  too  small — we're  moving  our  whole 
sale  department  to  another  building." 

Presently  they  were  in  Michigan  Avenue  and  at 
Barney's  house.  It  was  a  mass  of  Indiana  limestone 
which  he — with  the  assistance  of  a  builder,  audaciously 
"  branched  out  "  as  an  architect — had  fashioned  into 
a  fantastic  combination  of  German  mediaeval  fortress 
and  Italian  renaissance  villa.  "  Here's  where  I  live," 
said  Barney  as  the  carriage  stopped  before  the  huge 
doors  studded  with  enormous  bronze  nails.  "  And 
don't  you  dare  back  up  Nelly  when  she  jeers  about  it. 
She  says  she  can't  look  at  it  without  laughing,  or  come 
into  it  without  blushing.  I  suppose  it  is  no  good,  in 

[256] 


CHAPTER     SIXTEEN 

the  way  of  art.    But  it  keeps  out  the  rain,  and  that's 
the  main  point  in  a  house,  ain't  it?  '! 

As  he  was  getting  out  his  keys  the  door  was 
opened  by  a  maid  in  a  black  dress,  a  white  apron  and 
cap.  "  Jessie,"  said  he,  in  a  tone  which  suggested  that 
she  might  be  his  daughter,  "  this  is  the  Earl  of  Froth- 
ingham,  and  I  want  you  to  take  good  care  of  him, 
and  of  the  young  man  who's  coming  with  his  trunks." 

Frothingham  took  off  his  hat  and  bowed  vaguely 
to  the  maid,  who  smiled  cordially.  "  I'll  show  you 
your  room,"  she  said. 

"  Never  mind,  Jessie,"  interrupted  Barney.  "  You 
needn't  bother.  I'll  take  him  up  myself.  But  I 
know  everything's  all  right — Nelly  looked  after  that." 

Frothingham  was  impressed  by  the  astonishing  dif 
ference  between  the  exterior  and  the  interior  of  the 
house.  He  felt  at  home  at  once  in  this  interior — hand 
some,  cheerful,  the  absurd  splendours  of  the  architect- 
builder's  devising  softened  into  comfort  and  good 
taste.  "  We  thought  you'd  like  your  young  man 
near  you,"  explained  Barney,  "  so  we  put  a  bed  in  the 
dressing  room." 

"  Thank  you,"  replied  Frothingham.  "  This  is 
charming." 

[257] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

"  Nelly  knows  her  business."  Barney's  good- 
natured  face,  with  its  many  dignifying  scars  from  his 
wars  with  destiny,  beamed  paternal  enthusiasm.  "  You 
needn't  dress  for  dinner  unless  you  want  to,"  he  went 
on.  "  I  never  do  unless  we  have  company  or  I  go  out 
somewhere  to  something  swell  and  formal.  Wickham 
sometimes  does  and  sometimes  don't." 

"  I  think  I'll  dress,  if  you  don't  mind,"  said  Froth- 
ingham  diplomatically. 

"  Suit  yourself.  This  is  Liberty  Hall.  We  ain't 
got  any  rules."  He  looked  at  his  watch.  "  That 
clock  on  the  mantel  there  is  four  minutes  fast.  It's 
seven  minutes  to  seven  by  the  right  time.  We're  hav 
ing  dinner  at  half -past  seven,  but  you  can  come  down 
just  as  soon  as  you  feel  like  it." 

Frothingham  descended  at  five  minutes  before  the 
dinner  hour  and  found  Nelly  alone  in  the  front  par 
lour.  Superficially  she  was  like  the  women  he  had  met 
in  the  Eastern  cities.  Like  them  she  was  dressed  in  a 
gown  obviously  imported  from  Paris;  like  them  she 
wore  it  as  only  American  and  French  women  wear  their 
clothes.  He  saw  instantly  that  she  was  a  well-bred 
girl  of  a  most  attractive  American  type.  She  was 

tall  and  long  of  limb — her  arms  were  almost  too  long. 

[258] 


T- 

Found    Nelly    alone    in    the    front    parlour 


CHAPTER     SIXTEEN 

She  had  a  great  deal  of  dark  brown  hair  shading 
fascinatingly  into  black  here  and  there.  She  had 
dark  eyes — not  brown,  as  he  at  first  glance  thought, 
but  dark  grey — a  humour-loving  mouth,  a  serious 
brow,  a  clear,  delicate,  olive  skin.  As  she  and  Froth- 
ingham  were  shaking  hands,  her  father  and  her 
brother  entered — the  brother,  Wickham,  a  huge  fel 
low,  topping  his  father  by  several  inches  and  having 
his  father's  keen,  good-natured  dark  grey  eyes  and  his 
father's  features,  except  that  the  outline  was  more 
refined  without  being  less  strong. 

Barney  put  his  arm  round  his  daughter  and,  with 
a  foolish-fond  expression,  said :  "  Didn't  I  tell  you, 
Frothingham?  Wasn't  I  right?  " 

If  Frothingham  had  been  new  to  "  the  States  "  he 
would  have  thought  this  the  strongest  kind  of  a  bid 
for  him  to  enter  the  family.  But  he  understood  the 
American  character  in  its  obvious  phases  now.  "  The 
old  chap's  mad  about  her,"  was  all  Barney's  speech 
suggested  to  him.  "  And,"  he  admitted  to  himself, 
"  I  think  he  has  reason  to  be.  She's  got  the  look  I 
like."  He  noted  the  humourous  comment  on  her 
father's  flattery  in  Nelly's  dark  eyes,  as  he  examined 
her  through  his  eyeglass  with  ostentatiously  critical 

[259] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

minuteness.  "  Quite  up  to  the  mark,  I  should  say," 
he  replied  with  polite  audacity,  adding  apologetically, 
"  though  I  don't  pretend  to  be  an  expert." 

"  You  see,  I  did  put  on  my  dress  suit,  after  all," 
said  Barney,  looking  down  at  his  old-fashioned,  ill- 
fitting  evening  clothes.  "  The  children  would  have 
it.  I  always  feel  like  a  stranded  fish  in  these  togs. 
You  see,  I  never  wore  'em  in  my  life  till  I  was  past 
forty." 

Wickham  looked  a  little  nervously  at  Frothingham ; 
Nelly  was  smiling  with  frank  amusement.  Then 
Wickham  looked  ashamed  of  himself — but  he  care 
fully  observed  the  peculiar  stripes  down  the  legs  of 
Frothingham's  trousers  and  the  curious  cut  of  his 
waistcoat  and  coat — "  I  must  find  out  who's  his  tailor," 
he  thought.  "  Poole  don't  send  me  over  the  real 
thing.  I  wish  I  dared  wear  a  monocle.  It's  a  whole 
outfit  of  brains  and  manners  by  itself.  I  don't  be 
lieve  he  takes  it  out,  even  at  night." 

A  maid  announced  dinner — not  "  Dinner  is  served," 
but  "  Dinner,  Mr.  Barney."  And  Barney  jumped  up 
with,  "  I'm  glad  to  hear  it.  I'm  hungry  as  a  wolf." 
The  dining  room  was  done  in  old  English  fashion — 

and  the  dinner,  too,  though  an  American  would  have 

[260] 


CHAPTER     SIXTEEN 

called  it  the  American  fashion.  The  feature  of  its 
four  courses  was  a  huge  roast,  set  before  Barney  on 
a  great  platter,  with  a  mighty  carving  knife  like  a 
cimetar  and  a  fork  like  a  two-pronged  spit.  Barney 
himself  carved — an  energetic  performance,  lacking 
in  grace  perhaps,  but  swift  and  sure.  On  the  table 
between  him  and  the  platter  was  a  pile  of  plates.  He 
put  a  slice  of  the  roast  into  the  top  plate  and  the 
waitress  removed  it,  carried  it  to  Nelly's  place  and  set 
it  down  before  her.  This  was  repeated  until  all  were 
served. 

Frothingham  watched  Barney's  movements  atten 
tively,  surprised  that  any  of  the  American  upper 
classes  condescended  to  eat  in  such  simplicity.  He 
was  almost  startled  when  a  bottle  of  wine  was  brought, 
for  he  had  not  forgotten  Barney's  denunciation  of 
drink  and  drinkers.  He  had  seen  so  many  concessions 
of  real  or  reputed  principle  for  his  benefit  since  he 
had  been  moving  about  in  American  "  high  life  "  that 
he  was  somewhat  cynical  as  to  principle  in  America. 
But  he  had  not  expected  to  find  this  degree,  or  even 
kind,  of  weakness  in  Barney.  "  He  told  me  he 
wouldn't  permit  the  stuff  to  come  into  his  house,"  he 
thought,  laughing  to  himself.  Then  he  noticed  that 

[261] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

none  of  the  family  drank  it.  One  taste  was  enough 
for  him — "  No  wonder  he's  opposed  to  wine,"  he  said 
to  himself.  Then  aloud :  "  If  you  don't  mind,  I'll 
just  take  whiskey — a  little  Scotch." 

Barney  showed  amused  embarrassment;  Nelly  and 
Wickham  laughed.  "  We  don't  have  anything  to 
drink,"  she  explained.  "  Father  doesn't  approve. 
But  he  told  us  you'd  been  brought  up  differently — 
that  you  must  have  wine.  So  we've  got  wine,  but 
there  isn't  any  whiskey." 

Frothingham  looked  vague — he  was  relieved  to  find 
that  his  friend  Barney  was  not  quite  so  weak  as  he  had 
feared.  "  It  doesn't  in  the  least  matter,"  he  replied. 
"  I  shall  get  on  famously  with  this." 

"  I'll  take  you  down  to  the  club  after  a  while,"  said 
Wickham,  "  and  you  can  have  all  you  want.  And 
to-morrow — eh,  father?  " 

"  Yes — yes — of  course,"  answered  Barney.  "  I 
never  do  try  to  put  on  style  that  I  don't  get 
left." 

He  winked  at  one  of  the  maids  significantly,  and 
when  she  drew  near  and  bent  her  head  whispered  to 
her.  She  left  the  dining  room ;  in  about  five  minutes 
she  reappeared  with  a  decanter  of  Scotch  whiskey,  a 


CHAPTER     SIXTEEN 

tall  glass,  a  bowl  of  ice,  and  a  bottle  of  imported  soda 
on  her  tray. 

"  Why,  father !  "  exclaimed  Nelly,  "  where  did  that 
come  from  ?  " 

Barney  beamed,  triumphant.  "  We've  got  neigh 
bours,  haven't  we?  ': 

"But  what  will  they  think  of  you?"  she  asked, 
pretending  to  be  shocked. 

"  I  don't  know — and  I  don't  care,"  he  answered. 
"  I  never  did  spend  much  time  in  worrying  about  what 
my  neighbours  thought  of  me.  Probably  that's  why 
we're  here,  and  not  in  the  poorhouse." 

After  dinner  Frothingham  stayed  with  Nelly  in  the 
parlour  instead  of  going  to  the  club  with  Wickham. 
He  had  found  many  girls  in  America  who  thought 
they  were  natural  or  who  affected  naturalness  as  a 
pose:  but  here  was  the  first  girl,  it  so  happened,  who 
was  really  natural,  without  thinking  anything  about 
it.  She  had  all  the  charm  of  the  girls  of  his  own  coun 
try  for  him — he  liked  ingenuousness ;  and  in  addition 
she  had  the  charm  of  knowledge.  She  knew  the  world, 
but  she  looked  at  it  with  ingenuous  eyes — and  he 
would  not  have  believed  this  a  possible  combination. 
"  How  do  these  Americans  manage  it?  "  he  said  to 

[263] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

himself.  "  Her  father  comes  from  well  down  in  the 
lower  classes,  yet  he  has  all  the  assurance  of  an  aris 
tocrat.  And  as  for  the  girl,  she  reminds  me  of  Evelyn 
— and  Gwen." 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  said  to  her,  "  you  don't  suggest 
an  American  girl  at  all — that  is,  you  do  and  you  don't. 
You  women  over  here  are  cleverer  than  ours,  but  a 
good  many  of  'em  lack  a  certain  something — a — I 
don't  know  just  what  to  call  it.  It  seems  to  me  that — 
well,  they  are  ladies,  of  course.  But  many  of  'em — 
not  all — but  a  great  many  of  those  I've  chanced  to 
meet — make  me  feel  as  if  they  were  not  exactly  sure 
of  themselves,  as  if  they  were  trying  to  live  up  to 
something  they'd  read  about  or  seen  somewhere.  I 
don't  know  that  I  make  myself  clear." 

"  Perfectly,"  replied  Nelly.  "  You  mean  that  they 
act  as  if  they  weren't  satisfied  with  being  the  kind  of 
lady  they  were  born,  and  are  trying  to  be  some  other 
kind — and  don't  succeed  at  it  especially  well." 

"  Exactly,"  said  Frothingham.  "  I  feel  like  say 
ing  to  them,  *  Oh,  come  now,  chuck  it,  won't  you,  and 
let's  see  what  you're  really  like.'  But  you — you  re 
mind  me  of  our  women,  except  that  they're  so  ghastly 
dull — the  most  of  'em.  Gad,  they  sit  about  in  the 

[264] 


CHAPTER     SIXTEEN 

country  until  they're  feeble-minded.  After  a  certain 
age,  about  all  there  is  left  of  'em  is  the  match-making 
instinct.  You'd  understand  if  you'd  been  over  there." 

"  I  have  been  there,"  answered  Nelly.  "  I  spent 
more  than  a  year  in  Europe — nearly  half  of  it  in  your 
country.  I  liked  it,  but — well,  one  likes  one's  own 
country  best,  of  course." 

"  I  thought  you  American  women  preferred  the 
other  side." 

"  Oh,  a  few  of  us  do — those  who  aren't  happy  un 
less  they  have  somebody  bowing  and  scraping  to  them 
or  are  bowing  and  scraping  to  somebody.  You  know, 
the  poor  we  have  always  with  us — the  poor  in  spirit 
as  well  as  the  other  kind  of  poor." 

Before  they  had  talked  an  hour  Frothingham  felt 
that  the  outlook  for  his  campaign  in  the  Barney  house 
was  not  promising.  Nelly  was  frank  and  friendly, 
and  he  saw  that  she  liked  him.  But  there  was  some 
thing  in  her  atmosphere  which  made  him  know  that 
she  cared  little  for  the  things  which  were  everything 
to  him  and  which  must  be  everything  to  the  woman  he 
might  hope  to  win.  He  feared  that  she  was  not  for 
him.  "  She  ain't  in  my  class — or  perhaps  I'd  better 
say,  I  ain't  in  hers." 

[265] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

When  Wickham  came,  at  half -past  ten,  she  left 
them.  After  suppressing  yawns  for  fifteen  minutes 
he  said :  "  I'm  off  to  bed.  I  was  at  a  dance  last  night 
and  owe  myself  five  hours  sleep.  You  see,  father  and 
I  get  up  at  half-past  six.  We  have  to  be  at  the  store 
at  eight." 

At  the  store !  At  eight !  "  And  he  hasn't  in  the 
least  the  look  of  that  sort  of  chap,"  thought  Froth- 
ingham.  As  for  rising  at  half-past  six,  one  might  do 
it  to  hunt  or  shoot.  But  to  do  it  morning  after  morn 
ing  "  merely  to  set  a  lot  of  bounders  to  selling  a  lot 
of  cloth  " — preposterous ! 


1 266  ] 


XVII 

ATER  a  few  days  of  Chicago  Frothingham 
felt  utterly  out  of  place.  There  were  no 
idlers,  no  idling  places.  To  idle  meant  to  sit 
in  lonely  boredom. 

Barney  and  his  son  were  busy  all  day — they 
grudged  the  half-hour  of  that  precious  time  of  theirs 
which  they  spent  at  luncheon.  Nelly,  too,  had  her 
work — some  sort  of  a  school  she  was  running,  away  off 
somewhere  in  the  poorer  part  of  the  town.  He  was 
sensitive  enough  soon  to  discover,  in  spite  of  her  cour 
tesy,  that  he  was  interrupting  her  routine  seriously  and 
was  in  the  way  to  becoming  a  burden.  He  saw  as  much 
of  her  as  he  dared — she  had  for  him  a  charm  that  be 
came  the  more  difficult  to  resist  as  his  hope  of  winning 
her  decreased.  He  relieved  her  of  himself  during  her 
busy  hours  so  tactfully  that  she  did  not  suspect  him 
of  penetrating  what  she  honestly  tried  to  conceal. 

He  betook  himself  to  the  club.  It  was  usually  de 
serted  ;  if  a  man  did  enter,  he  raced  through  and  away 
as  if  pursued  by  demons;  at  luncheon  all  ate  as  if 

[267] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

struggling  for  a  prize  offered  to  him  who  should  chew 
the  least,  swallow  the  fastest,  and  finish  the  soonest. 
He  called  on  the  women  he  met — they  were  out  or  just 
going  out,  or  just  coming  in  to  busy  themselves  at 
home. 

In  New  York,  Boston,  Washington  he  had  thought 
the  leisure  class  a  lame  imitation  of  the  European 
class  of  industrious,  experienced  idlers,  had  found  it 
small  and  peculiarly  unsatisfactory  because  its  men 
were  inferior  to  its  women  in  numbers  and  especially 
in  brains.  But  here — there  wasn't  a  pretence  of  a 
leisure  class  except  the  loungers  in  the  parks;  and 
they  were  threatening,  so  it  was  said,  to  organize  and 
do  all  sorts  of  dreadful  things  if  they  weren't  given 
something  to  do.  "  This  is  a  howling  wilderness,"  he 
said  to  himself.  "  I  should  be  better  off  in  a  desert. 
These  lunatics  make  my  head  swim." 

Wherever  he  went,  all  seemed  possessed  of  and  pur 
sued  by  fever-demons.  If  it  was  a  dinner,  the  diners 
were  eager  to  despatch  it.  The  courses  were  served 
swiftly,  the  waiters  snatching  one's  plate  if  he  for  a 
second  ceased  the  machine-like  lifting  of  food;  the 
conversation  was  nervous  and  in  the  shrill  tones  of 
acute  mental  excitement.  Words  were  cut  short  and 

[268] 


CHAPTER    SEVENTEEN 

slapped  together  almost  incoherently.  Sentences  were 
left  unfinished,  the  speaker  leaping  on  to  another  sen 
tence  or  submerged  by  the  breaking  of  the  flimsy 
speech-dam  of  the  person  he  was  addressing.  Often 
all  were  talking  at  the  same  time.  "  Surely  you  can 
listen  as  you  talk,"  said  a  woman  to  whom  he  com 
plained.  "  Think  how  much  time  it  saves !  " 

If  it  was  a  dance,  the  orchestra  detonated  the  notes 
like  cartridges  from  a  Maxim  gun ;  the  dancers  whirled 
or  raced  furiously.  "  Why  this  hurry  ?  "  he  gasped 
to  a  handsome,  powerful  girl,  who  had  dragged  him 
round  a  ballroom  twice,  had  flung  him  into  a  chair, 
and  was  dashing  away  with  another  man  to  finish  the 
waltz. 

"  I've  got  to  catch  the  train  for  the  millennium," 
she  screamed  back  over  her  shoulder  and  disappeared 
in  the  maelstrom. 

Even  at  the  play  the  audience  shuffled  uneasily  while 
the  players  sped  through  their  lines  or  the  orchestra 
rattled  off  the  between-the-acts  music ;  and  afterward 
all  rushed  from  the  theatre  as  if  it  were  afire.  The 
blank  expression  habitual  to  Frothingham's  face  was 
now  less  a  disguise  than  a  reflection  of  his  internal 
state. 

[269] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

"  I  must  get  out  of  this,"  he  said  to  himself  at  the 
end  of  two  weeks.  "  The  disease  may  be  catching. 
Now  I  understand  that  fellow  who  went  from  here  to 
tear  London  up  by  the  roots  and  put  in  his  tuppenny 
tubes.  A  Chicagoan  should  be  barred  from  a  country 
like  any  other  plague."  And  he  wrote  his  sister  that 
he  was  "  beginning  to  twitch  with  the  Chicago  dis 


ease." 


Evelyn  had  written  him  regularly — a  letter  by  each 
Wednesday's  steamer.  She  had  put  a  brave  face 
upon  their  affairs,  had  tried  to  make  him  picture  life 
at  Beauvais  House  as  smooth,  almost  happy.  But 
he  had  more  than  suspected  that  a  far  different  story 
ran  between  the  lines;  and  when  she  wrote  that  she 
had  engaged  herself  to  Charley  Sidney  he  under 
stood. 

Seven  months  before  he  would  have  grumbled  and 
cursed,  and  would  have  accepted  the  sacrifice.  Now, 
it  roused  in  him  a  fierce  protest,  a  feeling  of  abhor 
rence  of  which  he  would  not  have  been  capable  before 
he  visited  America — and  the  Barneys.  "  She  sha'n't 
sell  herself  to  that  creeping  cad,"  he  said,  and  on  im 
pulse  he  cabled :  "  Sidney  impossible  and  unnecessary. 
You  must  break  it.  Answer." 

[270] 


CHAPTER    SEVENTEEN 

The  answer  came  a  few  hours  later :  "  Shall  do  as 
you  wish." 

Instead  of  being  relieved  he  repented  his  impulse, 
wondered  where  it  had  come  from,  fell  into  a  profound 
depression.  Seven  months  of  stalking;  nothing  to 
show  for  it  but  three  ridiculous,  sickening  misses. 
And  here  he  was  with  an  empty  bag;  and  what  little 
heart  he  once  had  for  the  game  was  gone ;  in  its  place 
a  disgust  for  it  and  for  himself.  "  How  Nelly  Bar 
ney  would  scorn  me  if  she  knew  what  a  creature  I  am," 
he  said.  He  was  now  thinking  a  great  deal  on  the 
subject  of  Nelly  Barney's  standards  for  men  and  also 
on  the  subject  of  Nelly  Barney  as  a  standard  for 
women.  In  neither  direction  did  he  find  any  encour 
agement.  He  knew  her  through  being  in  the  same 
house  with  her  day  after  day,  through  seeing  her  at 
all  hours  and  in  all  moods — and  she  never  made  the 
slightest  attempt  to  conceal  her  real  self.  He  felt 
that  such  a  woman  could  not  be  attracted  by  his  title, 
would  not  be  likely  to  be  attracted  by  himself ;  he  felt 
that  she  was  at  the  same  time  more  worth  the  winning 
than  any  other  woman  he  knew  in  America — "  Yes, 
or  in  England,"  he  confessed  at  last. 

"What  a  pity,  what  a  beastly,  frightful  shame," 

[271] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

he  thought.  "  She's  got  everything  that  I  must  have, 
and  everything  that  I  want,  too." 

But  he  had  only  twelve  hundred  dollars  left,  includ 
ing  the  thousand  from  Wallingford.  "  I  must  be 
gone  clean  mad,"  he  exclaimed  whenever  he  wasn't 
with  her  and  was  alone  with  his  affairs.  Finally  he 
was  able  to  goad  himself  into  dashing  feverishly  about 
in  Chicago  society.  He  sought  the  set  she  avoided — 
it  was  to  him  an  additional  charm  in  her  that  she  did 
avoid  it,  for  he  had  at  bottom  the  extra-prim  ideas 
of  women  which  have  never  lost  their  hold  upon  Eng 
lishmen.  There  was,  however,  no  alternative  to  seek 
ing  this  set.  He  thought  it  the  only  one  in  which  he 
was  likely  to  succeed — those  among  the  fashionable 
young  women  of  the  rich  families  who  carried  the 
"  free  and  easy  '"  pose  in  speech  and  manner  to  the 
point  where  it  looked  far  worse  to  a  foreigner  than  it 
really  was,  who  laughed  and  talked  noisily  in  public, 
who  wore  very  loud  and  very  clinging  dresses,  very 
big  hats  and  very  tight  shoes. 

The  newspapers  gave  him  columns  of  free  advertis 
ing  and,  with  the  Barneys  vouching  for  him  and 
"  Wick  "  Barney  pushing  him,  he  immediately  became 
a  figure.  Some  of  the  young  women  of  the  "  lively  '! 


CHAPTER    SEVENTEEN 

set  pursued  him  with  an  ardour  which  he  would  have 
mistaken  when  he  first  landed  for  evidence  of  serious 
attachment  or  intentions.  But  he  had  learned  some 
thing  of  the  ways  of  American  flirts,  married  and 
single,  and  he  had  had  experience  of  that  American 
curiosity  as  to  foreigners  of  rank  which  he  had  at  first 
regarded  as  the  frankest  kind  of  title-worship. 

Presently  he  found  a  girl  he  thought  he  could  not 
be  mistaken  in  fancying  he  could  get — Jane  or  Jenny 
(Jeanne,  she  wrote  it)  Hooper,  the  daughter  of  that 
famous  Amzi  Hooper  whose  "  Hooper's  High-class 
Hams  "  and  "  Hooper's  Excelsior  Dressed  Beef  and 
Beef  Extract "  are  trumpeted  from  newspaper,  bill 
board,  and  blank  wall  throughout  the  land. 

Her  older  sister  had  married  a  Papal  duke  under 
the  impression  that  he  was  a  noble  of  ancient  and 
proud  family.  To  her  horror,  to  her  family's  humil 
iation,  and  to  her  friends'  hilarity,  it  came  out  that 
the  Duke  of  Valdonomia  was  the  son  of  a  Swiss  hog- 
packer  of  as  humble  origin  as  Amzi  Hooper  and  of  less 
than  one-fifth  his  wealth.  The  family  longed  to  pos 
sess  a  genuine  nobleman,  and  Jane,  a  devourer  of  the 
English  novels  which  are  written  by  the  middle 
classes  for  the  middle  classes  about  the  upper  classes — 


GOLDEN  FLEECE 

seemed  to  be  in  sympathy  with  her  father's  and 
mother's  ambition  and  keenly  eager  to  become  a  "  real 
lady."  It  was  assumed  by  her  set  that  Frothingham 
had  come  for  her — the  newspapers  hinted  as  much 
several  times  each  week. 

But  Frothingham,  grown  extraordinarily  sensitive, 
shied  at  the  amazing  high  heels  on  which  she  tottered 
like  a  cripple,  at  the  skin-like  fit  of  her  clothes,  at  the 
suspicious  brilliance  of  her  cheeks  and  blackness  of 
her  brows  and  lashes.  Whenever  she  spoke  to  him 
suddenly  in  her  shrill  dialect  he  felt  as  if  a  file  had 
been  drawn  across  his  pneumogastric  nerve.  And 
she  constantly  used  a  slang  expression  which  seemed 
to  him — in  her — the  essence  of  vulgarity.  She  could 
not  speak  ten  sentences  without  saying  that  she  or 
somebody  or  everybody  had  nearly  or  quite  "  thrown 
a  fit." 

It  struck  him  as  a  biting  irony  of  fate  that  the 
woman  whom  of  all  he  knew  well  in  America  he  least 
approved  should  be  the  one  who  was  frankly  throwing 
herself  at  his  head  in  his  hour  of  desperation.  When 
he  learned  that  her  father  was  an  Englishman  born 
and  bred  in  the  "  lower  middle  class,"  he  felt  that  he 
had  solved  the  problem  of  the  family's  over-eager- 


CHAPTER    SEVENTEEN 

ness  to  get  him.  "  That's  why  the  old  beggar  almost 
cringes  as  he  talks  to  me,"  he  said  to  himself. 

"  D n  their  impudence !  "     And  the  next  time  he 

met  Hooper  he  treated  him  not  as  an  American  and 
an  equal,  but  as  an  Englishman  and  an  inferior.  And 
Amzi  at  once  fell  into  his  "  place,"  just  as  a  car  horse, 
though  elevated  to  be  a  coach  horse,  will  halt  at  one 
ring  of  a  bell.  "  It's  in  the  blood,"  thought  Froth- 
ingham.  "  It  can't  be  hid  or  got  out."  But — he 
didn't  venture  the  experiment  with  the  daughter. 

The  climax  came  one  morning  when  he  met  her  by 
chance  in  the  Lake  Park  Drive.  She  was  perched 
high  on  a  red  and  black  dog-cart  in  which  she  was 
driving  a  bay  and  a  gray  tandem.  Her  hat  was  the 
biggest  he  had  seen  her  wear,  and  she  was  swathed 
in  a  silver-grey  dust-coat  with  a  red  embroidered  col 
lar.  She  stopped  and  invited  him  to  join  her. 

"  I  needed  you  to  complete  my  turnout,"  she  said, 
when  they  were  under  way.  Her  dazzling  smile  took 
part  of  the  edge  off  her  unconscious  insolence — or 
was  it  conscious?  He  found  her  a  puzzle,  with  her 
flashes  of  good  taste  and  flashes  of  good  sense,  with 
her  wit  that  seemed  accidental  and  her  folly  that 
seemed  her  real  self. 

[275] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

He  set  his  teeth  and  tried  to  think  only  of  how  much 
"  I  need  her  to  complete  my  turnout,"  and  of  how 
pretty  she  was — for  there  was  no  denying  her  beauty, 
or  her  style  for  that  matter,  in  spite  of  its  efflo 
rescence.  He  saw  that  everyone  was  looking  at  them, 
but  he  did  not  appreciate  that  his  own  striking  cos 
tume  and  his  eyeglass  were  as  magnetic  as  were  her 
hat,  her  bright  skin,  and  her  dust-coat  with  its  gaudy 
collar.  She  was  supremely  happy.  The  most  con 
spicuous  girl  in  Chicago,  driving  with  the  most  con 
spicuous  man,  in  the  most  conspicuous  trap  and  on 
the  most  conspicuous  highway — what  more  could  a 
young  woman  ask? 

"  Wonder  why  everyone  stares  so  ?  "  she  said  with 
deliberate  intent  to  provide  an  opening  for  compli 
ment.  She  wished  to  hear  him  say  the  flattering 
things  she  was  thinking  about  herself. 

"  I  fancy  they're  staring  at  what  I  can't  take  my 
eyes  off  of,"  he  replied.  "  You  do  look  swift  this 
morning." 

"  Swift !  I  don't  like  that."  She  was  frowning. 
"  You  Englishmen  come  over  here  and  think  you  can 
say  what  you  please." 

"  I  can't  see  where's  the  harm  in  telling  a  girl 

[276] 


CHAPTER    SEVENTEEN 

she's   pretty   and   well   got   up,   and   looks   a   stun 


ner." 


"  That  isn't  what  '  swift '  means  in  Chicago." 

"  Really !  You  don't  say !  That's  what  it  means 
in  London." 

"  But  you're  not  in  London." 

"  No."  His  tone  strongly  suggested  a  wish  that 
he  were. 

"Wouldn't  it  be  jolly  if  this  were  Hyde  Park!" 
she  exclaimed. 

He  did  not  show  enthusiasm  at  this — but  then  his 
face  was  made  to  suppress,  not  to  express,  emotion. 

"  I  simply  adore  London,"  she  went  on. 

"  It  ain't  bad — for  a  while,  now  and  then." 

"  There's  so  much  atmosphere  about  London — I 
don't  mean  the  fog  and  soot.  Here,  they're  all  crazy 
about  making  money  and  working  and  all  those  kind 
of  things.  Whereas,  over  there,  everybody's  for  hav 
ing  a  good  time  and — all  those  kind  of  things.  Some 
times  I  think  I'll  throw  a  fit  if  I  don't  get  away  from 
here." 

He  looked  gloom,  then  brightened — yes,  she  was 
tremendously  pretty,  and  her  mouth  was  like  a  red- 
ripe  cherry ;  yes,  she  might  be  toned  down  into  a  fairly 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

decent  countess.  "  They're  quick  to  adapt  them 
selves,  these  American  girls.  The  minute  she  sees 
Evelyn  she'll  begin  to  learn." 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  stand  it,"  she  continued. 
"  When  are  you  going  away  ?  Not  that  I  sha'n't  be 
sorry — you've  been  awfully  nice  to  me,  and  I  like  to 
see  a  really  well-dressed  man  once  in  a  while." 

"  Ah,  I  don't  mind  it  here."  He  paused  for  fully  a 
minute,  then  said :  "  And  I'd  like  it,  you  know,  if  I 
could  take  you  with  me  when  I  go."  He  followed 
this  speech  with  a  slow  turning  of  the  head  until  his 
eyeglass  was  full  upon  her.  "  By  Jove,  her  colour's 
genuine,"  he  said  to  himself. 

She  had  been  happy  a  few  minutes  before;  now 
she  was  all  thrills  and  palings  and  flushings  of  ecstacy. 
She  glanced  at  her  conquest  with  sparkling  eyes  and 
laughing  lips.  .  She  made  him  forget  what  "  bad 
form  "  he  had  been  thinking  her.  "  Is  that  a  joke?  " 
she  asked,  as  if  she  were  assuming  that  it  was. 

"  We  don't  go  in  for  joking  about  that  sort  of 
thing  where  I  come  from,"  he  drawled. 

"  But  you  oughtn't  to  have  said  it  here."  She 
was  radiant,  but  her  hands  were  trembling — it  seemed 

most  romantic  to  her,  quite  like  a  chapter  out  of  a 

[278] 


CHAPTER    SEVENTEEN 

novel.  Nobility  and  titles  and  genuine  aristocracy, 
that  not  only  recognised  itself,  but  also  was  recognised 
as  aristocracy  by  everybody,  seemed  to  her  as  dream 
like  as  fairyland.  "  And  he  does  so  look  the  part !  " 
.  she  said  to  herself.  "  Anyone  could  see  that  he  is  the 
real  thing." 

"  If  you'll  drive  home  I'll  ask  you  again  there," 
he  continued. 

And  he  did,  and  she  accepted  him ;  and  he  was  half 
way  to  Barney's  before  he  came  from  the  spell  of  her 
fresh  young  beauty  and  her  frank  admiration  of  him, 
and  began  to  think  of  Nelly  and  to  see  Jeanne  from 
Nelly's  standpoint  again.  At  that  moment  Jeanne 
was  busily  telephoning  her  engagement  to  her  inti 
mates,  her  head  full  of  castles  and  coronets  and  crests 
and  peeresses'  robes.  It  seemed  to  her  that  she  could 
not  wait  to  begin  her  triumph — the  congratulations  of 
friends,  the  receptions,  dinners,  dances  in  honour  of 
her  and  her  fiance,  the  flare  of  newspaper  brasses,  the 
big  wedding,  and  the  crescendo  of  her  gorgeous  entry 
into  English  society  as  Countess  of  Frothingham.  Cin 
derella  was  no  more  enraptured  when  the  prince  lifted 
her  from  the  ashes  than  was  Jenny  Hooper  with  her 
ill-fed  and  exuberant  imagination,  her  ill-directed 

[279] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

and  energetic  ambition,  her  ill-informed  and  earnest 
conception  of  "  being  somebody." 

"  And  he's  coming  to  see  you  to-morrow,  pa,"  she 
said  to  Amzi  Hooper,  after  delighting  his  ears  with 
the  great  news.  "  He  says  your  consent  is  necessary 
before  the  engagement's  announced." 

"  I  guess  he  and  I  won't  quarrel  over  it,  Jenny,"  re 
plied  her  father.  "  If  he  suits  you,  I  can  stand  him." 

Frothingham  came  the  next  afternoon  and  made 
his  formal  request.  Mr.  Hooper  shook  hands  with 
him  cordially.  "  I  guess  my  girl  knows  what  she's 
about,"  said  he.  "  I'm  pleased  to  have  you  as  a  son." 

"  Thanks,"  replied  Frothingham — he  could  not  al 
together  banish  from  his  manner  the  instinctive 
haughtiness  of  English  upper  class  toward  English 
lower  class.  "  When  could  you  receive  my  representa 
tive?  Or  shall  I  send  him  to  someone  who  represents 
you?" 

Mr.  Hooper  looked  embarrassed  and  rubbed  his  jaw 
bone  vigorously  with  his  thumb  and  forefinger. 
"  Yes — yes — certainly — any  time  you  say.  I'll  talk 
to  him,  myself.  Can  he  come  to-morrow?  I  don't 
think  it  '11  take  him  long  to  satisfy  me  you're  all 

right." 

[280] 


CHAPTER    SEVENTEEN 

Frothingham  stared,  thinking  "  D n  his  impu 
dence  ! "  He  said  only,  "  To-morrow,  at  eleven, 
then,"  shook  hands  as  warmly  as  he  thought  wise, 
and  went  back  to  the  parlour  where  Jeanne  was  wait 
ing  for  him. 

Frothingham's  "  representative "  was  Lawrence, 
attorney  to  the  British  Consulate  at  Chicago,  a 
brother  of  Gerald  Boughton's  mother.  He  had 
come  to  America  thirty  years  before  because  he 
could  make  a  living  here  and  could  not  make  a 
living  at  home.  He  had  renounced  allegiance  to  the 
British  throne  because  by  doing  so  his  income  was 
doubled.  But  at  heart  he  regarded  himself  as  a  Brit 
ish  subject  and,  while  he  pretended  to  be  an  American, 
was  so  savagely  critical  of  things  American  that 
everyone  disliked  him.  He  wore  the  long,  slim  side- 
whiskers  which  were  the  fashion  when  he  left  home; 
he  talked  with  the  lisp  then  affected  as  the  "  hall 
mark  "  of  a  gentleman.  He  disliked  Americans ;  he 
despised  Anglo-Americans  of  the  Hooper  type; 
Hooper  himself  he  loathed  as  an  intolerable  upstart, 
successful  where  he,  of  the  "  upper  class,"  was  barely 
able  to  keep  chin  above  water. 

[281] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

When  he  came  into  Hooper's  study  at  the  hour  fixed 
by  Frothingham  he  was  an  accurate  representation  of 
the  supercilious,  frozen-faced  "  swell "  of  the  Picca 
dilly  district  a  quarter  of  a  century  before.  Hooper 
knew  that  he  was  of  the  "  upper  class,"  but  had  not 
the  faintest  deference  for  him.  Hooper  had  been 
Americanised  to  the  extent  of  caring  nothing  for 
mere  family.  It  took  a  title  to  stir  his  dormant  in 
stincts  of  servility ;  the  untitled  Lawrence  was  a  man 
to  be  judged  by  American  standards,  as  he  understood 
them.  Lawrence  was  not  a  millionaire  and  not  on  the 
way  toward  that  goal  of  every  rational  ambition; 
Hooper,  therefore,  had  no  more  respect  for  him  than 
he  had  for  any  other  "  failure." 

"  You've  come  to  explain  about  the  Earl  of  Froth 
ingham,"  began  Hooper  in  the  arrogant  voice  he  used 
at  business.  "  But  it's  not  necessary.  I'm  well  in 
formed  as  to  Lord  Frothingham's  family  and  am  satis 
fied  he's  what  he  represents  himself  to  be." 

Lawrence  combed  his  long  lean  "  Dundrearys  "  with 
his  slim  white  fingers.  The  joy  of  battle  gleamed 
in  his  eyes.  "  I  can't  imagine,"  he  replied — he  had 
a  broad  accent  and  drawl,  said  "  cawn't "  and 
"  fawncy  " — "  why  you  should  fancy  I  came  here  to 


CHAPTER    SEVENTEEN 

insult  Lord  Frothingham,  whose  representative  I  have 
the  honour  to  be." 

"Insult?  What  do  you  mean,  Mr.  Lawrence?" 
demanded  Hooper,  his  voice  courageous,  but  not  his 
eyes. 

Lawrence  felt  he  had  been  right  in  thinking  that 
no  American  would  negotiate  for  the  purchase  of  a 
title  unless  he  were  at  bottom  a  "  grovelling  snob." 
"  There  could  not  be  a  question  of  Lord  Frothing- 
ham's  character,"  he  said.  "  And  as  for  his  family, 
there's  none  more  illustrious  in  England." 

"  Certainly,  certainly.  I  admitted  all  that.  I  as 
sumed  that  Lord  Frothingham  was  sending  you 
through  over-anxiety — not  unnatural  when  he's  so  far 
from  home." 

"  My  business  with  you,  Mr.  Hooper,"  continued 
Lawrence,  "  relates  to  settlements."  Hooper's  pre 
tence — "  the  shallow  device  of  a  bargain-hunter  " — 
disgusted  him. 

Hooper  waved  his  hand — a  broad,  thick,  stumpy- 
fingered  hand.  "  Oh,  I've  no  doubt  Lord  Frothing 
ham  will  do  the  right  thing  by  my  daughter.  And 
besides,  I  intend  to  do  something  for  her — no  one  ever 
accused  Amzi  Hooper  of  stinginess." 

[283] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

"  That  is  gratifying,"  said  Lawrence.  "  We  shall 
no  doubt  have  not  the  slightest  difficulty  in  reaching 
an  understanding.  What,  may  I  ask,  is  the — aw — 
extent  of  the  settlement  you  purpose  to  make — upon 
your  daughter  and — and  Lord  Frothingham." 

Hooper's  face  grew  red.  "  You  may  ask,  sir,  but 
I'll  not  answer.  I'm  not  in  the  habit  of  discussing  my 
private  affairs  with  awe/body." 

Lawrence  was  angry  also — "  the  fellow's  taking  me 
for  a  fool,"  he  thought.  But  he  knew  he  must  control 
himself,  so  he  answered  smoothly :  "  This  is  extraor 
dinary — most  extraordinary,  Mr.  Hooper.  You've 
had  some  experience — aw — in  foreign  marriages " 

Hooper  dropped  sullenly  before  this  poisoned  shaft. 

"  And,"  continued  Lawrence,  "  you  must  know  that 
settlements  are  the  matter  of  course." 

"  No,  sir ! "  exclaimed  Hooper,  pounding  the  desk, 
"  I  know  nothing  of  the  sort.  When  my  oldest  daugh 
ter  married  they  talked  to  me  about  settlements,  but  I 
refused  to  have  anything  to  do  with  it." 

Lawrence,  in  fact  all  Chicago,  knew  that  Hooper, 
who  was  not  nearly  so  rich  then,  had  settled  a  quarter 
of  a  million  upon  the  Papal  nobleman  and  half  a  mill 
ion  on  his  daughter,  and  had  engaged  to  settle  a 

[284] 


You   may    ASK,    sir,    but    I'll   not    answer9 


CHAPTER    SEVENTEEN 

quarter  of  a  million  more  upon  the  first  male  child  of 
the  marriage.  "  We  should,  of  course,  not  be  satis 
fied  with  the  settlements  you  made  upon  the  Duke  of 
Valdonomia,"  said  he,  ignoring  Hooper's  falsehood. 

Hooper  winced,  looked  bluster,  thought  better  of  it, 
said  quietly :  "  You've  been  misinformed,  Mr.  Law 
rence.  I  made  no  settlements.  But  I  gave  the  young 
people  enough  to  set  them  up  comfortably  j" 

"  Lord  Frothingham's  position  forbids  him  to  con 
sider  any  such  arrangement  as  that,  Mr.  Hooper. 
You  know  how  it  is  with  the  great  families.  They 
have  station,  rank,  tradition  to  maintain.  They " 

"  I  won't  bribe  any  man  to  marry  my  daughter. 
That  ain't  the  American  way."  This  was  said,  not 
fiercely,  but,  on  the  contrary,  in  a  conciliatory  tone 
and  manner. 

Lawrence  sneered — inwardly — at  this  "  cheap  clap 
trap,"  and  said :  "  That's  sound — and  eminently 
creditable  to  you,  sir.  But  you  will  bear  in  mind  that 
Lord  Frothingham  is  an  English  nobleman,  the  head 
of  a  distinguished  family,  and  that  your  daughter  is 
about  to  become  his  Countess,  an  Englishwoman,  the 
mother  of  a  line  of  English  noblemen.  Do  I  make  my 
self  clear?  " 

[285] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

"  Perfectly.  Perfectly.  And  I've  not  the  least  ob 
jection  to  doing  what's  right.  I  want  to  make  it  clear 
that  I'm  giving  only  out  of  generosity  and  affection, 
and  a  desire  to  see  my  girl  properly  established." 

"  No  one  who  knows  you  will  doubt  that,"  said 
Lawrence  so  blandly  that  Hooper  could  find  no 
fault,  could  not  understand  why  he  was  irritated. 
"  And  now  that  we're  on  common  ground  I  hope  you'll 
give  me  some — aw — data — so  that  I  may  draw  up  the 
necessary  papers." 

"  Has  Frothingham  any  debts  ?  ''  asked  Hooper 
abruptly,  after  a  thoughtful  pause. 

"  There  are  about  fifteen  thousand  pounds  of  per 
sonal  obligations,"  replied  Lawrence  carelessly,  "  and 
a  matter  of  perhaps  a  hundred  thousand  pounds  as  a 
charge  on  the  entailed  estate.  I  understand  the  en 
tailed  part  is  all  that's  left ;  but  the  estates  can  be, 
should  be,  restored  to  what  they  were  until  a  hundred 
or  a  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago." 

"  Um !  "  muttered  Hooper. 

"  The  debt  represents,  I  believe,"  continued  Law 
rence,  "  the  wild  oats  and  careless  management  of 
previous  generations.  The  present  Earl  has  been — 
remarkably  steady,  they  tell  me,  considering  his  sta- 

[286] 


CHAPTER    SEVENTEEN 

tion  and  opportunities,  and  the  example  of  his  father 
and  grandfather." 

Hooper  had  read  with  an  attention  that  made  his 
memory  leechlike  every  word  of  every  sketch  of  Froth- 
in  gham  and  the  Gordon-Beauvais  family  in  the  Chi 
cago  papers.  Lawrence's  aristocratic  allusions  were, 
therefore,  full  of  suggestion  and  moved  him  pro 
foundly.  "  Well,"  said  he,  "  I  should  say,  in  round 
numbers,  that  a  million  would  straighten  the 
young  man  out  and  set  them  housekeeping  in  good 
style." 

There  was  a  queer  gleam  in  Lawrence's  eyes  as  he 
replied :  "  Very  handsome,  Mr.  Hooper.  Most  satis 
factory.  Your  daughter  can  take  the  position  in  Eng 
land  to  which  the  Earl's  rank  entitles  her."  He 
looked  as  if  he  were  reflecting;  then,  as  if  thinking 
aloud :  "  Let  me  see — a  million  pounds — five  mill 


ion " 


Hooper  sprang  to  his  feet.  "  You  misunderstood 
me,  Mr.  Lawrence,"  he  protested  angrily,  but  nerv 
ously.  "  My  daughter  will  have  that — perhaps  more 
than  that — ultimately.  But  I  meant  dollars,  not 
pounds." 

Lawrence  put  on  a  expression  of  amazement.  "  I 

[287] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Hooper,  but  really — really — 
you  can't  mean  that.  Two  hundred  thousand  pounds 
would  barely  fetch  them  even.  They'd  have  nothing 
to  live  on." 

"  Oh,  of  course  I  don't  mean  that  I'd  not  give  'em 
anything  in  addition.  We  were  talking  only  of  set 
tlements." 

"  Certainly.  And  you  must  see,  Mr.  Hooper,  that 
it  would  be  impossible  for  us  to  accept  any  settlement 
so  inadequate.  Some  misfortune  might  overtake  you 
and — you  would  be  unable  to  carry  out  your  present 
generous  intentions." 

"  A  million  dollars  is  a  big  sum  of  money.  It  looks 
even  bigger  in  England  than  here." 

"  But  you  are  making  a  great  alliance.  A  million 
dollars  is  a  small  sum  in  the  circumstances — I  mean, 
in  view  of  the  necessity  of  enabling  your  daughter  to 
take  all  that  her  position  as  Countess  of  Frothingham 
entitles  her  to." 

"  Permit  me  to  ask,"  said  Hooper  with  some  sar 
casm,  but  not  enough  to  conceal  his  anxiety,  "  what 
did  Lord  Frothingham  expect  in  the  way  of  settle 
ment  ? "  The  multi-millionaire  had  developed  two 
powerful  passions  with  age — avarice  and  social  ambi- 

[288] 


CHAPTER    SEVENTEEN 

tion.  These  were  now  rending  each  the  other  and  both 
were  rending  him. 

"  Lord  Frothingham,  of  course,  did  not  discuss  the 
matter  with  me — a  gentleman  is,  naturally,  delicate  in 
matters  of  money.  He  simply  stated  the  posture  of 
his  affairs  and  left  me  in  full  charge.  When  I  sug 
gested  to  him  that  eight  hundred  thousand — pounds 
— would  be  adequate,  he  protested  that  that  was  too 
much.  *  I  wish  Mr.  Hooper  to  appreciate  that  it  is 
his  daughter  I  want,'  said  he.  *  Make  the  least  pos 
sible  conditions.  I'd  be  glad  to  marry  her  without  a 
penny  if  my  position  permitted.  It's  hard  to  have  to 
consider  such  things  at  this  time,'  he  said.  *  I'm  sure 
we  can  pull  through  with  seven  hundred  thousand.' 
I  did  not  and  do  not  agree  with  him,  but  I  assented  be 
cause  I  knew  that  you  would  liberally  supplement  the 
settlements." 

Every  sentence  in  that  speech  exasperated  Mr. 
Hooper — perhaps  Lawrence's  persistence  in  express 
ing  himself  in  pounds  instead  of  in  dollars  most  of  all. 
Pounds  made  the  huge  sum  demanded  seem  small, 
made  his  resistance  seem  mean  and  vulgar.  He  re 
flected  for  several  minutes.  "  I  won't  do  it !  "  he  said 

in  a  sudden  gust  of  temper.    "  Half  that  is  my  final 

[289] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

figure.  I'll  settle  the  obligations — the  five  hundred 
and  seventy  thousand  dollars — and  I'll  entail  five  hun 
dred  thousand  and  give  Jenny  five  hundred  thousand 
for  her  lifetime,  it  to  go  afterward  to  the  younger 
children." 

Lawrence  combed  his  whiskers  with  his  fine  fingers, 
shaking  his  head  slowly  as  he  did  so.  "  But,  Mr. 
Hooper " 

"  That's  final,"  interrupted  Hooper.  "  It's  bad 
enough — it's  shameful — it's  un-American,  sir,  to  make 
any  settlement  at  all." 

At  "  un-American  "  Lawrence  took  advantage  of 
the  fact  that  Hooper  was  not  looking  at  him  to  in 
dulge  in  a  glance  of  contemptuous  amusement.  "  No 
body  but  an  American,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  could 
have  dragged  '  un-American '  into  such  a  discussion 
as  this.  The  cad  is  dickering  over  his  daughter  like  an 
old-clothes  dealer  over  a  bag  of  rags." 

Hooper  was  talking  again — talking  loudly :  "  Not 

a  cent  more !  Not  a  d n  cent  more !  If  they  need 

more  after  they're  married,  let  'em  come  to  me  for  it. 
They'll  get  it.  But  I  ain't  fool  enough  to  make  'em 
independent  of  me.  I  ain't  going  to  give  'em  a  chance 

to  forget  the  hand  that  feeds  'em.    No,  sir ;  I  want  my 

[290] 


CHAPTER    SEVENTEEN 

daughter    to    continue    to    love    me    and    think    of 


me." 


There  was  no  affectation  in  Lawrence's  astonish 
ment  at  this  view  of  affection  and  the  way  to  keep  it. 
"  Poor  devil,"  he  said  to  himself  pityingly,  "  he's 
been  so  perverted  by  his  wealth  that  he  actually  doesn't 
see  he's  taking  the  very  course  that  '11  make  his  chil 
dren  hate  him."  But  he  ventured  only,  "  I'm  certain, 
sir,  from  what  I  know  of  your  daughter  and  Lord 
Frothingham  that  money  could  have  no  influence  with 
them  one  way  or  the  other." 

Hooper  smiled  cynically.  "  It's  human  nature,"  he 
said.  "  The  hand  that  feeds  is  the  hand  that's  licked. 
I'll  give  'em  all  they  need  whenever  they  need  it.  Do 
you  suppose  I've  no  pride  in  my  daughter,  in  seeing 
that  she  makes  a  good  appearance  over  there?  But 
a  million  and  a  half  is  my  outside  figure  for  settle 
ments." 

"  Practically  less  than  a  hundred  thousand  over  and 
above  the  debts,"  replied  Lawrence,  irritatingly  revert 
ing  to  pounds.  "  That  is,  about  four  thousand  a  year 
for  them  to  live  on." 

"  Forty  to  fifty  thousand  a  year,  including  Jenny's 
income,"  corrected  Hooper,  standing  up  for  dollars. 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

"  And  while  I  don't  promise,  still,  if  they  behave,  they 
can  count  on  as  much  more  from  me." 

"  Nine  thousand  a  year,"  said  Lawrence,  translat 
ing  into  pounds,  "  would  hardly  keep  up  Beauvais 
Hall  in  a  pinched  fashion.  It  would  leave  nothing 
for  restoring  the  property;  the  Hall,  for  example, 
needs  fifty  thousand  pounds  at  once  to  restore  it." 

The  reasonableness,  the  unanswerableness  of  this 
presentation  of  the  case  exasperated  Hooper. 
"  They'll  have  to  look  to  me  afterward  for  that,"  he 
said  angrily.  "  I've  said  my  last  word." 

But  Lawrence  didn't  believe  him.  He  saw  that, 
though  avarice  was  uppermost  for  the  moment,  the 
"  cad's  craving  "  was  a  close  second — then  there  was 
the  daughter's  aid.  She  would  have  something  to  say 
to  her  father  when  she  knew  of  the  hitch  in  the  nego 
tiations.  He  rose.  "  There's  nothing  further  at 
present,  Mr.  Hooper.  I  shall  be  compelled  strongly 
to  advise  Lord  Frothingham  against  going  on  and  en 
gaging  himself.  I  cannot  do  otherwise,  consistently 
with  my  duty  as  the,  as  it  were,  guardian  for  the  mo 
ment  of  his  dignity  and  the  dignity  of  his  house.  It 
may  be  that  he  will  disregard  my  advice.  But  I  don't 
see  how  he  can,  careless  in  sordid  things  and  impetu- 


CHAPTER    SEVENTEEN 

ous  though  he  is.  The  prospect  for  an  unhappy  mar 
riage  would  be  too  clear.  Good-morning,  sir." 

Hooper  shook  hands  with  him  lingeringly.  Avarice 
forbade  him  to  speak.  "  The  Earl  will  come  to  your 
terms,"  it  and  shrewdness  assured  him.  "  If  he  don't 
the  deal  is  still  open,  anyhow."  His  parting  words 
were,  "  Give  my  regards  to  the  young  man.  Tell  him 
we  hope  to  see  him  as  usual,  no  matter  how  this  affair 
comes  out." 

"  The  coarse  brute,"  muttered  Lawrence,  as  he  stood 
without  the  doors  of  the  granite  palace.  "  The  soul 
of  a  ham-seller,  of  a  pig-sticker."  And  he  took  out 
his  handkerchief  and  affectedly  wiped  the  hand  which 
Hooper  had  shaken.  "  Always  a  nasty  business,  this, 
of  American  upstarts  buying  into  our  nobility.  If 
they  weren't  a  lot  of  callous  traders  and  money-grab 
bers  they  couldn't  do  it.  And  they  usually  negotiate 
at  first  hand,  so  that  they  can  drive  a  closer  bargain. 
And  their  best  society,  too!  Beastly  country — no 
wonder  the  women  want  to  be  traded  out  of  it  into 
civilisation." 


[293] 


XVIII 

THERE  was  a  family  council  at  the  Hoopers' 
after  luncheon  that  day — Mr.  Hooper,  his  wife, 
and  Jeanne.    The  two  women  followed  Hooper 
from  the  dining  room  into  his  study,  where  he  was 
pulling  sullenly  at  his  cigar  and  awaiting  the  attack. 
It  was  his  wife  who  began :  "  Do  you  know  why  Lord 
Frothingham  sent  word  he  couldn't  come  to  lunch, 
pa?    Jenny  here  is  worried  about  it." 

Mr.  Hooper  grunted.  Finally  he  said :  "  I'm  will 
ing  to  do  anything  in  reason  to  please  Jenny.  I  don't 
approve  of  this  title  business.  It  ain't  American.  But 
as  long  as  the  young  fellow  has  turned  her  head  I  was 
not  disposed  to  stand  in  the  way."  He  frowned 
fiercely.  "  But  I  tell  you  flat,  I  won't  be  held  up ! 
And  that  fellow  he  sent  here  this  morning  was  a  plain 
highwayman." 

Mrs.  Hooper  and  Jeanne  looked  significantly  each 
at  the  other — they  had  had  many  talks  about  his  grow 
ing  stinginess,  and  they  suspected  him  at  once. 

"  What  did  he  want?  "  inquired  Mrs.  Hooper. 

[294] 


CHAPTER    EIGHTEEN 

"  I  don't  propose  to  talk  this  thing  over  before 
Jenny.  It's  disgraceful  that  she  should  have  gone 
into  such  a  business.  It  ain't  right  that  she  should 
know  about  such  things." 

Jeanne's  eyes  filled  with  tears.  "  And  I've  told  all 
the  girls !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Everybody  knows  it.  I 
can't  back  out  now.  The  whole  town  'd  be  laughing  at 
us.  I'd  be  ashamed  ever  to  show  my  face  in  the  street 
again.  You  don't  want  to  break  my  heart,  do  you, 
pa?" 

"  You've  made  a  sweet  mess  of  it ! "  snarled  her 
father.  "  You  ought  to  have  had  better  sense  than  to 
have  told  anybody  till  the  business  side  of  it  was  set 
tled.  I  warned  your  ma  about  that — I  knew  what  was 
coming.  Now,  here  you  two  've  gone  and  given  him 
the  whip  hand !  " 

"  She  got  at  the  telephone  before  she  told  me,"  said 
Mrs.  Hooper. 

Neither  she  nor  her  husband  suspected  that  Jeanne 
had  thought  of  just  this  emergency  of  a  wrangle  over 
settlements  and  had  decided  that  the  best  way  to  over 
come  her  father's  avarice  was  to  put  him  in  a  posi 
tion  from  which  he  could  not  recede.  If  Frothing- 
ham  had  not  insisted  on  liberal  settlements  she  would 

[295] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

have  prompted  him  to  it.  She  was  no  more  eager  than 
was  he  to  embark  with  small  supplies  in  the  hold  when 
it  was  possible  to  lay  in  supplies  a  plenty.  And  as  her 
father  had  acted  all  her  life  upon  his  principle  of  pa 
ternal  affection — "  The  hand  that  feeds  is  the  hand 
that's  licked  " — she  saw  no  harm  in  guiding  her  con 
duct  toward,  him  by  principles  from  the  same  prac 
tical  code.  As  she  was  about  to  engage  in  business, 
wasn't  it  common  sense  to  get  as  large  a  capital  as  she 
could  ?  "  We  can't  back  out  now,"  she  repeated  tear 
fully,  watching  him  shrewdly  through  her  tears. 

"  A  pretty  mess !  "  growled  her  father.  But  he  was 
not  really  offended,  partly  because  he  was  fond  of  his 
daughter  and  would  have  forgiven  her  almost  any 
thing,  partly  because  he  understood  and  sympathised 
with  her  eagerness  to  proclaim  her  triumph,  chiefly 
because,  now  that  he  had  thought  it  over,  he  was  ready 
to  accept  Frothingham's  terms.  "  The  hope  of  get 
ting  more  and  the  need  of  it  will  keep  'em  tame,"  he 
reasoned.  And  he  said,  addressing  the  two  women: 
"  When  that  Lawrence  fellow  comes  again  to-mor 
row,  as  I'm  dead  sure  he  will,  I'll  close  the  matter. 
But  you  two  keep  your  hands  off !  " 

As  soon  as  her  father  and  mother  were  out  of  the 

[296] 


A s  soon  as  }ier  father  and  mother  were  out 
of   the   way 


CHAPTER    EIGHTEEN 

way  Jennie  went  into  the  library  and  called  up  the 
Barneys.  "  Is  Lord  Frothingham  there?  "  she  asked. 

"  I'll  put  you  on  the  switch  to  his  room,"  was  the 
reply.  And  presently  a  voice  she  recognised  as  Hutt's 
said :  "  Who  wishes  to  speak  to  'Is  Lordship  ?  " 

"  Say  that  Miss  Hooper's  at  the  telephone." 

There  was  a  pause,  a  murmur  of  voices — she  was 
sure  one  of  them  was  Frothingham's.  "Then  Hutt  an 
swered:  "'Is  Lordship  hain't  'ere  just  now,  ma'am. 
Hany  message,  ma'am?  " 

She  was  trembling  with  alarm.  "  Just  tell  him  that 
I  called  up,  and  that  I'd  like  to  speak  to  him  when  he 
comes  in  " — this  in  a  rather  shaky  voice,  for  a  great 
fear  was  gathering  in  around  her,  a  fear  that  he  had 
become  offended  at  her  father's  stinginess  and  barter 
ing  and  bargaining,  and  had  decided  to  withdraw. 

She  wandered  uneasily  from  room  to  room.  She  sat 
at  the  telephone  several  times — once  she  had  the  re 
ceiver  off  the  hook  before  she  changed  her  mind  about 
trying  to  reach  him.  She  ordered  her  victoria  and  got 
ready  for  the  street,  to  drive  about  in  the  hope  of  acci 
dentally  meeting  him.  At  the  door  she  changed  her 
mind  again.  As  she  was  turning  back  a  boy  came  by, 
shouting  an  extra — "  All  about  the  Earl  of  Frothing- 

[297] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

ham !  Big  sensation !  "  She  saw  that  the  boy  knew 
who  she  was,  knew  that  she  was  supposed  to  be  en 
gaged  to  Frothingham,  was  clamouring  in  that  neigh 
bourhood  because  he  thought  sales  would  be  briskest 
there.  She  fled  into  the  house — but  sent  a  servant  out 
by  the  basement  way  to  buy  the  paper. 

The  headlines  were  large  and  black.  Frothingham, 
the  story  ran,  had  got  into  debt  in  England  so  deeply 
that  his  creditors  found  he  could  not  pay  more  than 
a  few  pence  in  the  pound;  they  had  consulted  as  to 
ways  and  means  of  recovering,  had  organised  them 
selves  into  a  syndicate,  had  put  up  five  thousand 
pounds  to  "  finance  "  him  for  a  hunt  for  a  rich  wife 
in  America.  "  And,"  concluded  the  account,  "  this  ex 
posure  comes  barely  in  time  to  block  his  attempt  to 
marry  the  beautiful  daughter  of  one  of  the  richest 
meat  packers  in  Chicago,  moving  in  our  smartest 
smart  set." 

She  did  not  know  that  this  tale  was  a  deliberately 
false  diversion  of  the  facts  about  a  syndicated  German 
prince  who  had  visited  Chicago  several  years  before 
and  had  almost  married  there.  The  truth  as  to  his 
enterprise  had  just  come  out  on  the  other  side  through 
the  collapse  of  the  Rontivogli  syndicate ;  and  the  news- 

[298] 


CHAPTER    EIGHTEEN 

paper,  relying  for  immunity  on  Frothingham's  alone- 
ness,  and  on  his  well-understood  mercenary  designs, 
had  substituted  his  name  for  the  German's.  She  read 
and  believed.  She  had  known  from  the  outset  that  his 
main  motive  was  money.  But  she  had  succeeded  in 
disguising  this  unsightly  truth  in  the  same  flowers  of 
her  crudely  romantic  imagination  in  which  she  dis 
guised  the  truth  as  to  her  craving  for  a  coronet.  Now 
it  was  as  if  the  flowers  had  been  torn  away  to  the  last 
concealing  petal  and  had  left  exposed  things  more 
hideous  than  she  thought  were  there. 

She  hid  her  face  and  cried  a  little — "  I  despise  him. 
Besides,  if  I  went  on  and  married  him,  what  would 
people  say  ?  " 

It  would  have  taken  finer  scales  than  those  avail 
able  for  weighing  human  motives  to  decide  which  of 
the  two  reasons  embodied  in  those  two  sentences  was 
the  heavier.  She  dried  her  eyes  and  sat  with  her  elbow 
on  the  table  and  her  chin  in  her  hand. 

"  That's  the  best  thing  to  do,  every  way  I  look  at 
it,"  she  said  aloud  slowly  at  the  end  of  half  an  hour's 
thought. 

She  went  to  the  telephone,  called  up  the  offices  of  the 
Great  Western  and  Southern  Railway,  asked  and  got 

[299] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

the  General  Manager.  "  Is  that  you,  Mr.  Burster? 
Is  that  you,  Tom?  Meet  me  in  the  parlours  of  the 
Auditorium  right  way."  And  she  rang  off  and  tele 
phoned  to  the  stable  for  her  victoria. 

Ten  minutes  later  she  was  driving  down  the  avenue 
in  her  largest,  most  beplumed  black  hat  and  a  pale 
blue  carriage-coat  that  produced  the  wonted  effect  of 
her  public  appearances — Burster  once  said  to  her: 
"  Jeanne,  you're  the  only  thing  on  earth  than  can  stop 
traffic  in  the  streets  of  Chicago.  You  can  do  in  two 
seconds  more  than  a  blizzard  could  do  in  a  week." 

She  returned  at  half-past  five.  Her  father  and 
mother  were  in  the  front  sitting  room  upstairs,  gloomy 
as  the  lake  in  the  dusk  of  a  cloudy  day.  She  entered, 
whistling  and  tilting  her  big  hat  first  over  her  right 
eye,  then  over  her  left.  "  Don't  look  so  cheerful,"  she 
said,  patting  her  mother  on  the  cheek  and  pulling  her 
father's  beard. 

He  tried  to  scowl,  but  it  was  a  failure ;  and  his  voice 
was  not  in  the  least  formidable  as  he  said :  "  A  pretty 
mess  you  got  yourself  into,  miss,  with  your  telephon- 
ing." 

"  What  telephoning?  "  she  asked  with  a  start. 

"  Tattling  your  engagement." 

[300] 


CHAPTER    EIGHTEEN 

"  Oh ! "  She  threw  herself  into  a  chair  and 
laughed. 

"  Your  father  telephoned  to  Mr.  Lawrence  after  he 
left  us "  began  her  mother. 

"  What  did  you  do  that  for,  pa  ?  "  she  interrupted. 
"  He'll  think  we  haven't  any  pride." 

"  You  ungrateful,  thoughtless  child !  I  did  it  for 
your  sake." 

"  What  did  Mr.  Lawrence  say  ?  " 

Her  father  hesitated  and  his  face  showed  how  he 
hated  to  inflict  upon  his  daughter  the  pain  he  thought 
his  words  would  cause.  "  He  said  it  was  useless  to  con 
tinue  our  discussion,  as  Lord  Frothingham  had  defi 
nitely  and  finally  decided  not  to  renew  his  proposal." 
The  old  man's  voice  almost  broke  as  he  went  on: 
"  Jenny,  here's  a  note  that  came  a  few  minutes  ago — 
I  think  the  address  is  in  Frothingham's  handwriting." 

Neither  he  nor  her  mother  dared  to  look  at  her  as 
she  was  hearing  these  awful  disclosures  of  the  downfall 
of  her  hopes  and  the  impending  brutalities  to  her 
pride  and  vanity.  She  picked  up  the  note,  opened  it 
slowly,  read  it — a  few  polite  formal  sentences,  setting 
forth  that  he  had  "  yielded  to  the  insuperable  ob 
stacles  interposed  by  your  father." 

[301] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

She  dropped  the  sheet  and  pirouetted  round  the 
room  in  and  out  between  the  chairs  occupied  by  her 
frightened  parents — they  thought  her  suddenly  gone 
mad  from  the  shock.  "  Who  says  I  ain't  the  luckiest 
girl  on  earth?  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  What  are  you  talking  about,  Jenny  ?  "  demanded 
her  mother  sharply. 

"  Why,  I  married  Tom  Burster  half  an  hour  ago. 
He's  putting  the  notices  in  all  the  papers  for  to-mor 
row  morning.  Everybody  '11  think  I  changed 
my  mind  and  shook  Frothingham.  And  I  did, 
too!" 

"  Jenny !  "  exclaimed  her  father.    "  Tom  Burster !  " 

"  And  he's  coming  here  to  dinner,  if  you  don't  ob 
ject,"  she  continued.  "  If  you  do,  why  I'll  join  him 
and  we'll  go  away  and  give  you  a  chance  to  cool  off." 
She  caught  her  father  by  the  beard.  "  What  do  you 
say,  daddy?  Say  yes,  or  I'll  pull." 

"  Yes,"  replied  her  father  with  a  huge  sigh  of  re 
lief — his  daughter  was  contented;  her  and  their  van 
ity  would  be  spared;  Tom  Burster  would  not  demand 
or  want  a  dower ;  he  was  not  only  independent,  but  also 
one  of  the  most  forward  young  "  self-made  "  rich  men 
in  Chicago.  "  You've  got  more  sense  than  all  the  rest 

[302] 


CHAPTER    EIGHTEEN 

of  the  family  put  together,"  he  exclaimed  proudly, 
patting  her  on  the  head. 

And  in  an  absent,  reflective  tone  she  said :  "  I 
always  felt  I'd  have  some  use  for  Tom  sooner  or 
later." 


[  303  ] 


XIX 

FROTHINGHAM'S  abrupt   change   of   tactics 
had  been  caused  by  a  cablegram  from  Evelyn 
which  reached  him  at  the  Barneys'  even  as  his 
diplomatic  agent  was  in  the  heat  and  toil  of  the  nego 
tiations  with  Amzi  Hooper.    It  read : 

Break  off  everything  and  return.  Have  written  you  New 
York.  Best  possible  news.  Gwen  sends  love. 

"  Why  didn't  she  say  what  it  was  ?  "  he  wondered. 
And  he  decided  that  it  must  be  news  of  too  private  a 
nature  to  be  trusted  to  the  telegraph  station  at  Beau- 
vais.  Why  had  she  written  if  he  was  to  go  at  once? 
"  I  suppose,"  he  concluded,  "  she  was  afraid  I 
mightn't  obey  orders.  '  Gwen  sends  love ' — that 
must  mean  that  the  news  is  about  me  and  Gwen." 

But  he  had  no  uplifting  of  spirits — instead,  he  felt 
a  sense  of  impending  misfortune.  He  called  up  Law- 
ence's  office  and  told  one  of  the  clerks  that  he  wished 

Lawrence  to  call  him  as  soon  as  he  came  in.     In  a  few 

[304] 


CHAPTER     NINETEEN 

minutes  Lawrence  was  relating  over  the  wire  the 
favourable  progress  of  the  negotiation. 

"  It's  off,"  said  Frothingham.  "  I  want  nothing 
more  to  do  with  it.  I'm  glad  it's  in  good  form  for 
the  break.  I  can  drop  it  decently." 

This  so  delighted  Lawrence  that  he  laughed  aloud. 
"  Hooper's  certain  to  send  for  me,"  he  said.  "  I'll 
give  him  the  shock  of  his  life." 

Frothingham  cautioned  him  against  any  transgres 
sion  of  the  most  courteous  politeness,  then  went  down 
to  luncheon — with  Nelly,  alone.  While  she  was  talk 
ing  and  he  listening  and  looking,  all  in  a  flash  he  un 
derstood  why  the  "  best  possible  news  "  from  home 
depressed  him,  why  "  Gwen  sends  love  "  did  not  elate 
him.  He  asked  Nelly  to  take  him  to  her  school. 

"  Oh.  you  wouldn't  be  interested,"  she  said. 

But  he  insisted,  and  they  set  out  immediately  after 
luncheon.  As  they  went — in  a  street  car — she  ex 
plained  her  work: 

When  her  mother  lay  dying  she  said  to  the  man 
beside  whom  she  had  worked  for  thirty-six  years, 
mostly  cloud  and  rain :  "  Henry,  I  don't  want  a  big, 
showy  monument  over  me.  If  you  should  do  some 
thing  for  me,  build  a  school  of  some  kind,  a  school 

[305] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

where  girls  can  be  taught  how  to  be  useful  wives 
and  mothers,  instead  of  spending  their  whole  lives 
at  learning."  And  Nelly's  father  had  put  by 
money,  a  large  sum  each  year,  until  his  daughter's 
education  was  finished.  Then  he  had  said  to  her,  "  I 
want  you  to  help  me  carry  out  your  ma's  memorial." 
And  he  turned  over  to  her  a  mass  of  plans  and  hints 
and  schemes  which  he  had  been  accumulating  for  seven 
years.  "  Get  up  a  plan,"  he  had  said,  "  on  the  lines 
your  ma  would  have  liked.  It's  a  woman's  work — 
it's  your  natural  work.  I'll  supply  the  money."  And 
after  two  years'  labour,  one  year  of  it  abroad,  she  had 
perfected  a  scheme  for  a  great  school  where  several 
hundred  girls  could  be  instructed  in  all  that  a  woman 
as  a  woman  should  know — housework,  sewing,  cooking, 
shopping,  marketing,  the  elements  of  business  and  of 
art,  the  care  of  babies,  the  training  and  education  of 
children.  And  she  had  so  planned  it  that  the  girls 
could  and  should  support  themselves  while  they  were 
learning. 

Frothingham  did  not  take  his  eyes  from  her  face 
as  she  talked.  She  seemed  to  him  the  most  wonderful, 
the  noblest  human  being  in  the  world.  "  A  fine,  a 
beautiful  idea,"  he  said.  "  But  aren't  you  afraid  of 

[306] 


CHAPTER     NINETEEN 

spoiling  those  girls  for  workingmen's  wives?  You're 
educating  entirely  too  much  in  this  country,  I  should 
say,  as  it  is.  You're  making  the  lower  classes  restless 
and  discontented.  They'll  pull  everything  down 
about  your  ears  the  first  thing  you  know." 

Nelly  smiled — he  saw  that  she  was  not  seeing  him 
at  all,  was  looking  far,  far  past  him.  "  I'm  not 
worrying  about  the  consequences,"  she  said.  "  If  we 
did  that  we  should  never  move.  You  must  remember 
that  we  haven't  any  classes  here,  but  are  all  of  one 
class — we  differ  in  degree,  but  not  in  kind.  One 
can't  look  into  the  future.  I  only  know  it  was  in 
tended  for  the  light  to  shine  on  the  whole  human  race, 
and  that  it's  our  duty  to  help  all  we  can.  And  knowl 
edge  is  light,  and  ignorance  is  darkness,  isn't  it  ?  I'm 
not  afraid  of  light,  anywhere.  Whether  it's  little  or 
much,  it's  better  than  darkness." 

He  looked  at  her  strangely.  "  I  had  never  thought 
of  that,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice.  Then,  after  a  few 
minutes :  "  How  good  you  are !  I  didn't  know  there 
was  anybody  in  the  world  like  you.  How  generous  of 
you  to  give  your,  life  to  these  people." 

"  No — no !  "  she  protested.  They  were  walking 
now  through  a  maze  of  homely  streets  lined  with  flat- 

[307] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

houses  large  and  small  and  odourous  of  strong-smelling 
cookery,  of  decaying  food,  of  stale  whiskey  and  beer 
-J— a  typical  tenement  district.  "  When  I  first  began 
on  this  scheme,"  she  went  on,  "  I  thought  as  you  do. 
But  I  soon  saw  how  false,  how  foolishly  false,  that 
was.  And  if  I  had  continued  to  think  as  at  first,  if 
I  had  gone  into  the  work  to  patronise  and  to  feed 
my  vanity,  I  should  have  injured  myself  and  all  whom 
I  wished  to  help.  I  should  have  made  a  snob  of  my 
self  and  parasites  of  them." 

She  paused  and  into  her  eyes  came  a  look  which 
he  thought  "  glorious."  She  went  on :  "  But  fortu 
nately,  I  got  the  right  sort  of  guidance  from  the  very 
start.  And  I  discovered  that  I  had  more  to  learn  than 
these  people.  I  was  actually  more  ignorant  than 
they."  She  turned  her  face  toward  him.  "  Did  you 
ever  think,"  she  asked,  "  what  would  become  of  you 
if  you  had  all  the  props  taken  from  under  you,  and 
were  cast  upon  the  world  and  were  forced  to  make  the 
fight  alone — without  a  penny  or  a  friend  or  a  relative 
or  any  outside  help  of  any  kind  ?  ': 

"Thought  of  it?  Well,  rather!"  he  exclaimed. 
"And  I  know  what  would  happen  to  me — jolly 

quick ! " 

[308] 


CHAPTER     NINETEEN 

"  That  was  my  first  discovery — about  myself.  I 
found  that  I  was  in  the  world  without  any  fit  equip 
ment  to  live.  I  found  that  if  the  props  were  taken 
from  under  me  I'd  be  no  match  for  the  working  people, 
that  I'd  perish  or  else  have  to  live  on  the  charity  of 
rich  people  by  doing  the  sort  of  pottering  work  they 
give  the  poor  of  their  own  class.  And  I  said  to  my 
self,  '  You  are  a  fine  human  being,  aren't  you — to 
pose  as  the  superior  of  those  who  are  independent  and 
self-respecting?  You  call  them  ignorant,  yet  they 
are  conforming  to  nature's  laws  and  to  the  conditions 
of  life  infinitely  better  than  you,  with  your  boasted 
intelligence  and  your  fancied  refinement.'  I  saw  that 
I  was  not  a  real  woman,  as  my  mother  had  been,  but 
was  only  a  parasite  on  the  labour  and  the  intelligence 
of  others." 

"  And  what  did  you  do  ?  " 

"  I  went  to  school  with  my  girls.  And "  Her 

face  lighted  up  with  enthusiasm — "  oh,  you  don't 
know  what  a — a  magnificent — sensation  it  is  to  be 
conscious  that  one  can  swim  alone  on  the  sea  of  life 
without  fear  of  drowning  or  of  having  to  call  for  help. 
You  spoke  as  if  I  were  giving  these  people  something. 
Why,  I  owe  everything  to  them !  It  is  they  who  gave 

[309] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

and  are  giving.     And  I  am  and  always  shall  be  in 
their  debt." 

He  tried  to  think  of  some  satirical  phrase  with  which 
to  lessen  the  impression  what  she  had  said  was  making 
upon  him.  But  he  could  only  blink  into  the  flooding 
light  which  seemed  to  him  to  surround  her  and  to 
blaze  upon  his  pettiness  and  worthlessness  and  the 
tawdriness  of  all  upon  which  his  life  had  been  based. 
In  his  own  country,  in  his  surroundings  of  alternating 
dulness  and  dissipation,  his  naturally  good  mind  had 
become  a  drowsy  marsh  with  pale  lights  gleaming  in 
it  occasionally  here  and  there.  Unconsciously,  he  had 
been  slowly  rousing  ever  since  he  landed  in  New 
York. 

The  people  he  had  met  were  like  enough  to  those  he 
had  met  at  home,  and  also  like  enough  to  the  people 
of  the  real  America  from  which  they  were  offshoots, 
to  form  for  him  a  mental  bridge  on  which  he  could 
pass  from  his  England  of  narrow  and  bigoted  caste 
to  Nelly's  America  of  alert  and  intelligent  and  self- 
respecting,  level-eyed  humanity.  And  he  was  now 
feeling  in  this  restless  Chicago  the  fierce  impact  of 
energies  and  aspirations  of  which  he  had  had  no  con 
ception,  of  which  he  could  never  have  a  clear  concep- 

[310] 


CHAPTER    NINETEEN 

tion.  Through  the  eyes  of  this  earnest,  unaffected 
girl  with  her  lived  ideal  of  self-forgetfulness  he  had 
been  getting  confused,  dazzling  glimpses  of  a  new 
world. 

But  he  did  clearly  see  and  feel  that  he  loved  her. 
And  she  now  saw  in  his  curiously  changed  face  what 
was  in  his  mind.  She  looked  away  instantly — her 
expression  was  uneasy,  almost  frightened.  "  Here 
we  are — at  the  school,"  she  said  nervously  as  they 
turned  a  corner  and  came  in  sight  of  three  great 
buildings — plain  yet  attractive — which  faced  three 
sides  of  a  broad  lawn  in  the  centre  of  which  a  large 
and  artistic  fountain  was  playing. 

He  never  could  give  a  clear  account  of  that  school. 
He  remembered  the  manager — a  Mr.  Worthington, 
with  a  strong  and  serious,  yet  anything  but  solemn 
face,  with  rather  homely  features  except  a  pair  of  ex 
traordinary  eyes.  He  remembered  many  classrooms 
where  all  sorts  of  feminine  enterprises  were  going  for 
ward  with  energetic  informality.  He  remembered 
many  girls — uncommonly  clean,  bright,  well-dressed 
girls  with  agreeable  voices  and  manners.  He  remem 
bered  many  smiles  and  other  evidences  of  health  and 

spirits.     He  remembered  many  babies — all  in  one  big, 

[311] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

sunny  room,  chirping  and  crowing  and  gurgling,  bal 
ancing  on  uncertain  little  lumps  of  feet  or  crawling 
toilsomely.  "  Practice  babies,"  Nelly  called  them, 
and  he  thought,  "  If  this  is  the  way  her  girls  succeed 
with  mere  '  practice  babies,'  what  won't  they  make  of 
their  own?';  Finally,  he  remembered — Nelly.  All 
his  other  memories  were  a  hazy  background  for  her 
tall,  graceful  figure  and  wonderful,  luminous  face. 
Her  he  never  forgot  in  the  smallest  detail  of  look  or 
gesture. 

When  they  were  once  more  in  the  street,  walking 
toward  the  car,  he  began  abruptly :  "  I  came  over  here 
— to  America — because  I  was  ruined — because  we 
were  going  to  be  sold  up  and  chucked  out  in  the 
autumn.  I  came — I'm  ashamed  to  put  it  into  words 
— I'd  rather  you'd  imagine — you  can,  easy  enough. 
It's  often  done  and  nothing's  thought  of  it — at  least 
on  our  side  of  the  water.  This  morning — in  fact, 
just  before  luncheon — I  got  a  cable  from  my  sister. 
Our  luck  has  turned,  and " 

"  I'm  very  glad,"  she  murmured  as  he  paused. 

"  I  don't  wish  to  go  back,"  he  went  on  impetuously, 
his  drawl  gone.  "  I  wish — it's  you  I  want.  And  I 
ask  you  to  give  me  a  chance.  I  don't  think  I'm  such 

[312] 


CHAPTER    NINETEEN 

a  frightfully  bad  sort,  as  men  go.  And  while  I  ain't 
fit  for  you  to  walk  on,  where's  the  man  that  is?  And 
perhaps  if  I  were  less  fit  I  couldn't  care  for  you — all 
the  height  from  down  where  I  am  to  up  where  you 


are." 


The  storm  which  had  burst  from  deep  down  within 
him,  deeper  far  than  he  thought  his  nature  extended, 
was  so  sweeping  and  whirling  him  that  he  could  not 
see  her  face  distinctly. 

When  she  spoke  it  was  in  a  voice  that  took  away 
hope,  but  gently,  soothing  the  wound  it  made.  "  I'm 
sorry,"  she  said,  "  and  yet  I'm  not.  No  woman  could 
help  being  pleased  to  hear  what  you've  said  to  me, 
and  hear  it  from  such  a  man  as  you  are.  Oh,  yes !  " — 
this  in  answer  to  his  expression — "  for  I've  found  out 
what  sort  of  man  lives  behind  your  look  of  irony  and 
indifference.  A  so  much  better  man  than  he  lets  him 
self  know — or  show.  And  I  understand  how  differ 
ently  you've  been  brought  up,  how  different  your  sys 
tem  is  from  ours.  But " 

She  hesitated,  and  somehow  he  felt  that  he  must  give 
her  sympathy  instead  of  asking  it. 

"  You  remember,  I  told  you  that  when  I  began  with 

the  school  I  had  the  right  sort  of  help  ?  'J 

[313] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

He  looked  away  from  her  and  it  was  black  before 
him  for  an  instant.  "  That  fairish  chap  with  the 
eyes — Mr.  Worthington  ? "  he  asked,  cutting  his 
words  off  sharp. 

She  nodded,  her  cheeks  bright.  "  I  simply  couldn't 
help  it,"  she  said.  "  He  was  what  I  longed  to  be. 
And  he  didn't  preach  the  things  I  believed  in — he  just 
lived  them." 

They  were  silent  until  they  were  in  the  car,  then  she 
went  on :  "I  don't  want  you  to  misunderstand.  He 
has  never  even  looked — what  I'd  like  him  to  look — and 
say.  I  don't  know  whether  he  cares — probably 
not.  Sometimes  I  think  he  cares  only  for  his  work, 
and " 

"  He  does  care — I  saw  it,"  interrupted  Frothing- 
ham,  and  then  he  was  astonished  at  himself  for  being 
so  "  ridiculously  decent." 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  said  doubtfully.  "  Thank 
you  for  saying  so."  She  looked  at  him  shyly.  "  You'll 
think  me  queer  for  telling  you  about  it  when  he  has 
said  nothing  to  me." 

"  I  understand  why  you  tell  me,"  Frothingham 
answered.  "  It  was — like  you."  He  smiled  faintly, 
his  frequent,  self -satirising  smile.  "  Don't  mind  me. 

[314] 


- 


V 


7    take    to   it    like    a   duck   to   water9 


CHAPTER    NINETEEN 

I'm  used  to  bad  luck.     I  take  to  it  like  a  duck  to 
water." 

Nelly's  instinct  told  her  that  she  had  said  enough, 
and  they  rode  in  silence.  When  she  spoke  again 
it  was  of  the  dance  to  which  they  were  going  that 
night.  An  hour  and  a  half  later  as  they  were  sepa 
rating  for  dinner  he  said  earnestly :  "  Thank  you  for 
what  you  said.  And  thank  you — even  more — for 
what  you  didn't  say." 


[315] 


XX 

ON  the  way  to  Mrs.  Graf  ton's  ball  that  night 
he  sent  Evelyn  a  cablegram  asking  her  to  cable 
him  £175  he  needed  to  help  him  to  pay  Wal- 
lingford  and  fixing  the  next  day  week  for  his  sailing. 
He  might  have  sailed  three  days  earlier,  but  he  wished 
to  get  her  letter  and  so  not  carry  an  unsatisfied  curi 
osity  on  a  six-days'  voyage. 

At  the  ball  everyone  was  talking  of  the  Frothing- 
ham  "  exposure  "  and  of  Jenny  Hooper's  marriage. 
The  "  exposure  "  had  appeared  in  but  two  editions  of 
the  "yellow"  that  invented  it.  "Wick"  Barney 
had  seen  it  and  had  lost  not  a  moment  in  forcing  its 
suppression  and  a  denial  and  in  warning  the  other 
papers.  He  said  nothing  to  Frothingham,  and 
Frothingham  did  not  know  of  it  then,  or  indeed  until 
several  years  had  passed.  But  even  if  it  had  not  been 
suppressed  and  had  been  everywhere  believed,  Froth- 
ingham's  social  position  would  not  have  suffered.  His 
title  was  genuine  and  his  family  and  his  position  at 

[316] 


CHAPTER    TWENTY 

home  were  of  the  best — more,  American  fashionable 
society  never  asks  about  upper  class  foreigners  who 
come  to  it  for  no  apparent,  or,  rather,  no  avowed  pur 
pose.  It  expects  them  to  be  somewhat  "  queer  "  in 
other  respects.  It  assumes  that  they  will  be  "  queer  " 
in  money  matters. 

Frothingham  did,  however,  hear  of  Jenny's  mar 
riage — heard  of  it  from  Jenny  herself.  At  the  Graf- 
tons'  the  dressing  rooms  are  at  opposite  ends  of  the 
hall  from  which  the  grand  stairway  ascends  to  the 
drawing  room  and  the  ballroom.  It  chanced  that 
Jenny  and  Frothingham  came  along  this  hall  from  the 
dressing  rooms  at  the  same  time  and,  to  the  delight 
of  the  few  guests  and  the  many  servants  who  wit 
nessed,  met  at  the  foot  of  the  stairway.  As  Frothing- 
ham's  face  habitually  expressed  nothing  beyond  a  sug 
gestion  that  he  had  nothing  to  express,  he  and  his 
eyeglass  withstood  the  shock  admirably.  Jenny  had 
intended  to  "  cut  him  dead  "  the  next  time  she  saw  him. 
But  as  she  tottered  suddenly  into  his  presence  on  her 
monstrous  tall  heels  she  was  not  prepared  for  a  course 
so  foreign  to  her  nature  as  the  cut  direct.  Before  she 
Joiew  what  she  was  doing  or  saying  she  had  smiled  and 
nodded.  She  instantly  shifted  to  a  frown ;  but  it  was 

[317] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

too  late — Frothingham  had  spoken,  had  subdued  her 
with  that  "  perfectly  splendid,  so  aristocratic  "  mon 
ocle  of  his.  "  What's  the  use  of  throwing  a  fit  over  a 
thing  that's  past  and  done?  "  she  reflected.  "  He's 
all  right  in  his  way.  And  won't  it  give  Tom  and 
everybody  a  jolt  if  we  enter  the  ballroom  together?  " 

Frothingham  had  called  her  "  Miss  Hooper."  This 
gave  her  the  opening.  "  Miss  Hooper !  "  she  said  with 
her  jauntiest  air.  "  That's  ancient  history.  I  ain't 
been  called  that  for  ages  and  ages.  Why,  I'm  an  old 
married  woman — for  Chicago." 

"  Really,"  said  he,  thinking  it  "  some  stupid,  silly 
sell  or  other."  He  was  hardly  listening.  He  was  more 
interested  in  the  rope  of  pearls  and  diamonds  that 
swung  from  her  neck  to  far  below  her  waist.  The 
pearls  were  large  and  were  once  perfect ;  but  each  pearl 
had  been  mutilated  by  having  a  diamond  set  in  it — a 
very  nightmare  of  sacrifice  of  beauty  and  taste  in  an 
effort  to  make  more  expensive  the  most  expensive. 

"  Yes,  indeed — truly.  I'm  Mrs. "  She  stopped 

short  and  gave  him  a  look  of  horror. 

"  Dear  me ! "  exclaimed  Frothingham  with  satiric 
sympathy.  "  Have  you  forgotten  his  name,  or  did 

you  forget  to  ask  it?  " 

[318] 


CHAPTER    TWENTY 

"  No — but  I  never  thought  of  it  before — thought 
how  it  sounds.  My,  but  it's  awful !  I'd  never  in  the 
world  have  married  him  if  I'd  have  pronounced  it  be 
forehand.  Mrs.  Burster!  Ain't  that  horrible? " 
Frothingham  had  lifted  "  ain't "  from  the  slough  of 
doubtful  grammar  to  the  pinnacle  of  fashion  in  fash 
ionable  Chicago. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  he  drawled,  still  imagining  she 
was  jesting.  "  It  might  be  worse,  mightn't  it,  now?  " 

At  this  seeming  impertinence  her  eyes  flashed. 
"  Yes — it  might.  It  might  be  Bursted — or  '  Busted  ' 
— mightn't  it?  "  Then,  seeing  that  her  "  shot  "  at 
his  financial  condition  as  described  in  the  newspaper 
she  had  read  and  believed  apparently  did  not  touch 
him,  she  relented  and  was  in  a  good  humour  again. 
"  I've  been  engaged  to  Tom  for  a  year  or  so  on  and 

o    o  •/ 

off,"  she  went  on.  "  When  I  woke  up  this  morning  it 
came  into  my  head  to  marry  him.  And  I  did  it  while 
your  lawyer  and  papa  were  squabbling."  She  said 
this  so  convincingly  that  she  herself  began  to  feel  that 
it  was  "  as  good  as  true." 

The  news  that  she  and  Frothingham  were  advanc 
ing  together  preceded  them  to  the  ballroom,  but  had 
not  spread  far  enough  from  its  doors  to  impair  the 

[319] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

sensation  made  by  their  entrance  with  every  appear 
ance  of  friendliness.  And  the  much  discussed  mystery 
of  that  day's  doings  is  here  solved  for  the  first 
time. 

The  next  afternoon  Frothingham  and  Wickham 
drove  up  to  Barney's  door  as  Nelly  and  Worthington 
were  arriving  on  foot.  One  glance  at  their  faces  and 
he  knew  that  they  understood  each  the  other  now. 
"  All  I  accomplished,"  he  said  to  himself  mournfully, 
"  was  to  force  the  fellow  to  play  his  hand.  What  rip 
ping  luck  I  do  bring — other  people !  "  He  paused 
only  long  enough  to  make  his  passing  on  seem  natural. 
Presently  she  followed  him  to  the  library,  where  he 
was  standing  on  the  rug  before  the  closed  fireplace 
with  a  cigarette  drooping  dejectedly  from  the  corner 
of  his  mouth.  She  moved  restlessly  about  the  room, 
evidently  seeking  a  way  to  begin  telling  him  some 
thing. 

"  I  saw  it  in  your  face — at  the  door,"  he  said,  in 
answer  to  an  appealing  glance  from  her. 

She  put  her  hand  on  his  arm  and  her  eyes  were  wist 
ful.  "  I  know  you  did,  and  I  hoped — I  thought — I 
saw  in  your  face  that  you  were  generous  enough  to  be 
glad  I'm  happy." 

[320] 


CHAPTER    TWENTY 

"  No,  I  can't  say  that  you  did.  The  most  I  can  do 
is  to  bear  it — without  the  grin."  He  seated  himself 
on  the  edge  of  the  big  table  and  smoked  and  looked 
at  her  reflectively.  "  I  say,"  he  began  at  last,  "  do 
you  see  how  it's  possible  to  be  in  love  with  two  at  the 
same  time?  5: 

She  nodded,  smiling  a  little.  "  Yes — I — I  think — 
if  I  hadn't  met  someone  first — I  should  have  been  in 
love  with — someone  else." 

"  That's  something,"  he  said  in  his  satirical  drawl. 
But  he  kept  his  eyes  down  and  his  eyelids  were  trem 
bling.  "  Do  you  know,"  he  went  on  after  a  pause  full 
of  cigarette  smoke,  "  I've  been  thinking  about — car 
ing  for  two  people  and  that  sort  of  thing.  I  don't 
mind  saying  to  you — you'll  understand,  I'm  sure — 
there's  a  girl  over  on  the  other  side " 

"  I'm  so  glad ! "  she  exclaimed — and  then  she 
wasn't. 

"  I  care  for  her — in  a  different  way,  but  it's  quite  a 
real  way.  And  when  I  go  back  home,  it  may  be — you 
know  what  I  wish  to  say.  I'm  telling  you  because  I 
don't  wish  you  to  think  I'm  disloyal  to  you  " — his  ex 
pression  was  half -satirical,  half -mournful — "  or  to  her 
either." 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

"  I  appreciate  your  telling  me,"  she  said.  "  But 
I'd  have  understood,  if  you  hadn't.  I  believe  I  recog 
nise  a  man  when  I  see  him,  and — you  know  that's  what 
I  think  you." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  I  dare  say  I'm  much 
like  other  people.  I  show  everyone  the  side  that 
matches  the  side  they  show  me." 

After  a  moment  he  went  to  her  and  lifted  her  hand 
and  kissed  it.  She  stood  and  turned  her  face,  sweet 
and  friendly,  up  to  him.  "  I'd  rather  you'd  kiss 
me,"  she  said. 

He  winced  and  paled  and  let  go  her  hand.  "  No, 
thanks,"  he  replied.  "  If  you  don't  mind,  I'd  rather 
not." 

With  this  Mr.  Barney  bustled  into  the  room — no 
one  had  ever  seen  him  make  a  slow  movement  of  any 
kind.  At  sight  of  them  standing  thus  suspiciously,  he 
halted  and,  as  they  flushed  and  moved  apart,  he 
laughed  in  such  a  way  that  Nelly  felt  impelled  to  ex 
plain  : 

"  I  was  talking  to  Lord  Frothingham  of  my  en 
gagement,  and  he  was  congratulating  me." 

"  Bless  my  soul !  "  ejaculated  Barney.  "  This  is 
news ! " 


CHAPTER    TWENTY 

"  I  haven't  had  a  chance  to  tell  you,  father.  It's 
Mr.  Worthington." 

Barney  seemed  depressed.  "  Well — I  guess  he's  all 
right,"  he  said  slowly.  "  I've  got  nothing  against 
him.  But " 

"  And,"  interrupted  Nelly,  afraid  of  her  father's 
frankness,  "  he  was  telling  me  of  his  engagement." 

Barney  looked  at  Frothingham  sharply.  "  Amer 
ican?  "  he  asked,  showing  that  he  wouldn't  like  it  if 
he  got  an  affirmative  answer. 

"  No — a  neighbour  of  ours  in  England,"  replied 
Frothingham. 

"  Delighted  to  hear  it.  You  ought  to  have  been 
married  and  settled  long  ago.  I  still  think  you'd 
have  done  better  to  sell  your  farm  over  there  and  settle 
down  here  in  Chicago."  Barney  would  have  scorned 
to  apply  such  words  as  estate  and  plantation  to  a  farm 
— though  he  did  call  his  shop  an  "  Emporium." 

Wickham  went  to  New  York  with  Frothingham  the 
next  day  but  one;  and  on  the  day  after  they  arrived 
they  had  Honoria,  chaperoned  by  Mrs.  Galloway,  at 
dinner  and  at  theatre,  and,  because  Wickham  insisted, 
at  supper.  It  was  almost  two  o'clock  when  they  put 

[323] 


GOLDEN     FLEECE 

the  two  women  in  their  carriage  at  the  Waldorf  and 
went  to  bed — Frothingham  refused  to  sit  up  listening 
to  Wickham  on  Honoria.  He  was  surprised  that 
Wickham  had  invited  her  for  luncheon  the  next,  or, 
rather,  the  same  day — was  astonished  when  he  found 
that  she  had  accepted.  His  last  three  days  in  Amer 
ica  were  spent  in  studying — and  encouraging — an  in 
fatuation. 

The  morning  of  his  departure  came,  and  the  steamer 
which  he  assumed  must  be  bringing  Evelyn's  letter, 
as  it  had  not  arrived  on  Friday,  was  just  getting  in. 
He  decided  that  he  would  not  put  off  his  sailing  to  get 
the  letter — "  Why  wait  merely  to  satisfy  my  curiosity  ? 
Evelyn  sent  me  over  here.  She  knows  what  she's  about 
in  recalling  me."  He  left  Hutt  at  the  hotel  to  stay 
until  the  last  moment  on  the  chance  of  the  mail  arriv 
ing;  he  and  Wickham  went  down  to  the  pier — Mrs. 
Galloway  and  Honoria  and  Joe  Wallingford  and  his 
wife  were  already  there.  He  had  a  few  sentences  aside 
with  Honoria. 

"  I'm  so  glad  you  introduced  Mr.  Barney  to  me," 
she  said.  He  trained  his  eyeglass  upon  her  mockingly. 
"  Really !  How  extraordinary !  Precisely  what  he 

said  on  Wednesday." 

[324] 


CHAPTER    TWENTY 

"  Don't  be  a  silly  ass,"  protested  Honoria  in  an 
unconvincing  voice.  "  He's  only  a  big,  nice  boy.  I'm 
four  years  older  than  he.  Or,  rather,  he's  four  years 
younger  than  I — I  don't  fancy  the  word  old." 

"  That's  as  it  should  be.  If  a  young  chap  will 
marry,  he  should  be  several  years  the  younger.  She'll 
keep  him  straight  and  bring  him  up  properly.  She'll 
be  patient  with  his  ignorance  and  know  how  to  handle 
the  reins  when  he  frets  or  frisks.  Good  business,  this 
you're  planning,  Honoria." 

"  Do  you  think  he  likes  me  ?  " 

"  Likes?  He's  positively  drivelling.  Look  at  'im!" 

Honoria's  glance  met  Wickham's — he  was  at  the 
rail,  pretending  to  listen  to  Catherine.  His  "  drivel 
ling  "  expression  as  he  came  at  the  call  in  her  eyes 
seemed  to  please  Honoria  mightily.  With  the  last  go- 
ing-ashore  gong  Hutt  came  bringing  Evelyn's  letter. 
Frothingham  at  once  read  enough  of  it  to  interpret 
her  cablegram: 

As  you  doubtless  know,  Georgia's  father-in-law  died  in  New 
York  a  few  weeks  ago.  He  left  them  I  don't  know  how  much — 
something  huge.  And  George  is  giving  Gwen  a  dot  of  three 
hundred  thousand.  She  was  just  here  with  the  news — she  came 
to  me  the  instant  she  heard  it.  As  she  was  leaving  she  said : 
4 '  Won't  you  give  Arthur  my  love  when  you  write  ? "  It's  the 
first  time  she's  spoken  of  you  to  me  since  you  left.  And  when  I 

[  325  ] 


GOLDEN    FLEECE 

said,  "  I'll  cable  it  to  him,"  she  blushed — you  should  have  seen 
her,  Arthur — and  heard  her  say,  **  Oh,  thank  you,  dear  ! " 

"  Good  chap,  George,"  murmured  Frothingham. 
"  The  right  sort  clean  through.  He  wouldn't  let  Gwen 
and  me  be  cheated  as  he  and  Evelyn  were. 
Poor  Evelyn !  .  .  Gwen  and  me ! "  He  be 
gan  a  sigh  that  changed  into  his  faint  smile  of  self- 
mockery.  "  Just  my  beastly,  rotten  luck — not  to  be 
sure  it's  good  luck  when  it  finally  does  come." 

He  went  to  the  rail  and  his  glance  sought  out  and 
rested  upon  the  little  group  of  his  friends  on  the 
crowded  pier  across  the  widening  gap  between  Nelly's 
land  and  him.  Wickham  took  Honoria's  blue  chiffon 
parasol  and  waved  it ;  Catherine  fluttered  her  handker 
chief.  He  lifted  his  hat  and  bowed.  Long  after  they 
were  lost  to  him  in  the  merge  of  the  crowd  they  could 
make  out  his  loud  light  tweeds  and  scarlet  bow,  and 
once  they  caught  the  flash  of  a  ray  of  sunlight  on  his 
eyeglass — like  a  characteristic  farewell  look. 

It  was  five  o'clock  in  a  late  September  afternoon. 
As  usual,  on  the  low  table  on  the  porch  viewing  the 
Italian  garden  at  Beauvais  Hall  was  the  big  tea  tray 
with  its  array  of  antique  silver  and  old  porcelain,  the 
cake  and  the  toast  and  the  slices  of  bread  and  butter. 


CHAPTER    TWENTY 

Round  it  were  Evelyn  and  Gwen  and  Frothingham — 
Gwen  in  a  shirtwaist  and  riding  skirt,  Frothingham 
in  the  slovenly,  baggy  flannels  of  an  English  gentle 
man  in  the  seclusion  of  his  country-seat.  No  one  was 
speaking  and  the  quiet  was  profound.  Presently 
Evelyn  rose  and  went  through  the  open  French  window 
into  the  drawing  room.  Gwen  was  watching  Froth 
ingham  ;  he  was  watching  the  peacocks  as  they  strutted 
with  tails  spread  in  splendour. 

"  I'm  always  wondering  that  one  of  those  clever, 
handsome  American  women  didn't  steal  your  heart — 
if  you've  got  one,"  said  Gwen. 

He  slowly  withdrew  his  gaze  from  the  peacocks  and 
fixed  it  upon  her  with  his  monocled  expression  that 
might  mean  everything  or  nothing.  She  chose  to  read 
everything  into  it  and  flushed  with  pleasure.  And 
her  left  hand,  moving  nervously  among  the  silver  and 
porcelain,  revealed  on  its  third  finger  a  narrow,  gold 
band. 

He  drew  a  long,  slow  breath  of  lazy  content  and 
drawled : 

"  You're  so  d n  comfortable,  Gwen ! " 

THE    END 


Htnn 


Author  of  "  The  Second  Generation 


A  HE  author  uses  as  his  theme  that  trait  in 
human  nature  which  leads  men  and  women  to 
seek  always  the  lime  light,  to  endeavor  always 
to  be  protagonists  even  at  the  expense  of  the 
truth.  His  book  is  a  study  of  that  most  inter 
esting  and  pertinent  type  in  modern  life,  the 
sentimentalist,  the  man  whose  emotions  are 
interesting  to  him  merely  as  a  matter  of  experi 
ence,  and  shows  the  development  of  such  a 
character  when  he  comes  into  contact  with 
normal  people.  The  action  of  the  novel  passes 
in  a  college  town  and  the  hero  comes  to  his 
grief  through  his  attempt  to  increase  his  ap 
pearance  of  importance  by  betraying  a  secret. 
His  love  for  his  wife  is,  however,  his  saving 
sincerity  and  through  it  the  story  is  brought  to 
a  happy  ending. 

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Author  of  "The  Pedagogues 

THE  TRIUMPH 


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ital  story  that  will  keep  a  reader's  interest  from 
the  first  appearance  of  its  hero,  the  young  doc 
tor  Neal  Robeson,  to  his  final  triumph  —  his 
triumph  over  himself  and  over  the  lawless,  tur 
bulent  oil-drillers,  his  success  in  his  profession 
and  in  his  love  affair.  It  displays  a  delightful 
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action  takes  place  in  a  little  western  Pennsyl 
vania  village  at  the  time  of  the  oil  fever,  and  a 
better  situation  can  scarcely  be  found.  Mr. 
Pier's  account  of  the  fight  between  the  out 
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roaring,  blazing  gas  well  is  a  masterpiece  of 
story  telling. 

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quick,  on-rushing,  inevitable  quality  of  a  story 
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Moscow  at  the  time  of  the  election  of  Peter  the 
Great,  when  the  intrigues  of  rival  parties  over 
turned  the  existing  government,  and  the  meet 
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scene  of  a  hideous  riot.  It  resembles  in  some 
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A  Comedy  of  the  Affections 

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people  tread  the  boards.  The  characters  whom 
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or  heroines  of  romance,  but  commonplace 
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"A  LAD  OF  THE  O'FRIEL'S" 


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acter  is  a  dreaming  and  poetic  boy  who  takes 
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people,  and  his  experience  and  life  are  thus 
made  to  reflect  all  the  essential  qualities  of  the 
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book  portrays  with  striking  realism  a  phase  of 
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the  drama,  inhabitant  of  the  "House  With 
the  Green  Shutters  "  and  master  of  the  village 
destinies,  looms  up  as  the  personification  of  the 
brute  force  that  dominates.  He  stands  apart 
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treatment  and  the  relentless  sweep  of  its  trage 
dy,  the  book  suggests  the  work  of  Dumas. 

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FLOWER  O'  THE  CORN 

r 

MR.  CROCKETT  has  made  an  interesting 
novel  of  romance  and  intrigue.  He  has  chosen 
a  little  town  in  the  south  of  France,  high  up 
in  the  mountains,  as  the  scene  for  his  drama. 
The  plot  deals  with  a  group  of  Calvinists  who 
have  been  driven  from  Belgium  into  southern 
France,  where  they  are  besieged  in  their  moun 
tain  fastness  by  the  French  troops.  A  number 
of  historical  characters  figure  in  the  book, 
among  them  Madame  de  Maintenon. 
"  Flower  o'  the  Corn  "  is  probably  one  of  Mr. 
Crockett's  most  delightful  women  characters. 
The  book  is  notable  for  its  fine  descriptions. 


Cloth,  12mo  $1.50 


Co* 


£.  iL  Jlason 


Author  of  "  To  the  End  of  the  Trail" 

THE  BLUE  GOOSE 

r 

JL  HE  life  of  the  miner,  with  its  hours  of  wild 
living  above  ground,  the  dominating  influence 
of  the  greed  for  gold,  and  the  reckless  gambling 
spirit  that  is  its  very  basis  offers  grateful  mate 
rial  to  the  teller  of  stories.  Mr.  Nason  has 
taken  full  advantage  of  the  opportunity  and  of 
his  intimate  knowledge.  He  has  written  a  tale 
of  cunning  and  villany  thwarted  by  dogged 
honesty,  in  which  a  mine  superintendent  is  in 
conflict  with  his  thieving  and  vicious  employees. 
The  sweetness  and  charm  of  an  unspoiled,  win 
some  girl  brighten  the  story.  To  her  steadfast, 
romantic  love  for  the  superintendent  is  due.  his 
final  triumph. 

Cloth,  12mo  $1.50 


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9lrnolti  Bennett 


Author  of  "The  Great  Babylon  Hotel" 

ANNA  OF  THE  FIVE  TOWNS 

r 

i ROBABLY  no  story  of  the  year  is  so  simply 
and  yet  so  artistically  told  as  this  one.  It 
portrays  the  development  of  a  sweet  and  nat 
ural  girl's  character,  amid  a  community  of  strict 
Wesleyan  Methodists  in  a  Staffordshire  town. 
How  her  upright  nature  progresses  with  con 
stant  rebellions  against  the  hypocrisy  and  cant 
of  the  religionists,  by  whom  she  is  surrounded, 
is  brought  out  by  the  author  faithfully  and 
with  great  delicacy  of  insight.  Many  will  love 
Anna,  and  not  a  few  will  find  something  in  her 
to  suggest  "Tess  of  the  Durbervilles."  The 
plot  is  extremely  simple,  but  the  reader  will 
find  a  surprise  in  the  last  chapters. 

The  English  letter  from  W.  L.  Alden,  in  the  New  York 
Times  Review  says : 

"It  will  be  promptly  recognized  by  the  critics  whose 
opinion  is  worth  something  as  the  most  artistic  story  of  the 
year" 

doth,  12mo  $1.50 


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